tagIncest/TabooA Hero's Welcome Ch. 01

A Hero's Welcome Ch. 01

bybeachbum1958©

I had been watching the clock all day. Charlie was due back on leave from Afghanistan, his flight should have touched down at RAF Brise Norton at 2pm. Brise Norton was only 22 miles away, and it was already 4:30; where was he?

+++

Charlie and I grew up in the service life. Dad was a Lt. Col. In an armoured infantry regiment. Our mother had passed away when I was 5 and Charlie was almost 3, so he barely remembered her. Virtually my whole life had been spent in boarding school, likewise Charlie, as dad was posted around the world, from one trouble-spot to another.

I only ever re-connected with Charlie during the summer and Christmas holidays, when we would spend the break with family friends, re-aquainting ourselves, and waiting for news of dad.

When the Iraq thing blew up, dad was posted to command an armoured infantry battalion, and was killed in action, stepping on a land-mine. That's the thing about the British Army; they don't sugar-coat bad news, they just told me baldly, probably assuming that I would somehow be proud that my dad, the highest-ranking British casualty of the whole stupid mess, had been shredded in the service of his country. I was 16 then, Charlie almost 14, and already determined to attend Sandhurst, to graduate as an officer in Her Majesty's Armed Forces, just like dad.

I tried to talk him out of it, I even went to see him at Wellington, the military boarding school, to try and make him see sense; I hated the army, it had destroyed our family, and now it was sucking-in my baby brother as well.

"Charlie, you'll be 21, an officer and a prime target if you gent sent out there, please don't do this!" I begged, "Please don't leave me alone, you're all I have left!"

But he had made-up his mind, and once he'd decided, on with it he went; just like dad. I knew, if this thing dragged on, he was going to end up dead; just like dad.

Charlie was accepted at Sandhurst at age 18, and spent the next 3 years training to be an officer and a gentleman, as well as a tactically-savvy, mission-driven killing machine, and I hated the thought of it.

He was a sweet boy, with dad's height and more, with shoulders to match, jet-black wavy hair and green eyes, shy and diffident, gentle, courteous and considerate; but even as his sister, I was forced to concede that he was almost ridiculously good looking. I took after mum, medium height, with long reddish-blonde hair and blue eyes. According to family friends, I also inherited her figure, small waist and 36B boobs, with a nice bum, even if I say so myself!

I was so angry with Charlie, angry and hurt that he'd refused to listen, that instead of going to university, he was going into jeopardy, because he wanted to. We had several long and bitter arguments, always ending with me in tears, and him looking shamefaced but stubborn.

"Charlie, this is idiocy, that place is a killing zone, don't you watch the news, don't you see the planes on TV every day, bringing the coffins back? The funeral cortege's going through the town? I Is that how you want to come home? That's how dad did, and his father, and his bloody father before him! Is that what you want? All the men in this family are dead soldiers, doesn't that ring any alarm bells? If you go there, it's only a matter of time before it's you, you bloody stupid arse! Can't you see that? Are you doing this for revenge, for dad? If he were here and heard this, he would give you such a slap for being so bloody stupid! This family needs you, I need you, will you for once in your life do something for me!?"

The only time I saw him cry, and I felt disgusted with myself, was when I told him, "If you do this, you'll get killed, not maybe, not possibly, it's a certainty, do you hear me? You'll be dead, so don't talk to me, you're a dead man, you just don't know it yet!" I stormed away from him, angry at myself for my comments, at him for being so pig-headed, and at the world, for trying to take him away. I looked back, and two big tears were on his cheeks, and to my shame, all I could think was, "Good, let him hurt, let him feel how I feel!"

All I wanted was my brother back, my little brother, all that was left of our family, and yet, instead of him being his usual, level-headed, rational self, here he was, off on a moronic bravado crusade, trying to prove something – or so I felt.

Charlie was my protector; even though he was younger than me, he felt like my older brother. One time, In Didcot, I was waiting outside a shop and I heard a voice say "Hey blondie, nice tits!" I coloured and looked away, but the boy who said it came to stand in front of me, staring at my chest, and reached out to touch them. Suddenly he was yanked backwards, as Charlie came up behind him and said, levelly, in his ear, "If you try and touch my sister again, I will ram my hand up your arse and rip out your tongue from the inside, got it? Good, now fuck off!"

As Charlie towered over him, he "fucked-off"!

Charlie hugged me as I sobbed in embarrassment and delayed fright, then put his arm around me to take me back to the bus. I stammered out my thanks, my face buried in his chest, but he brushed it off

"Only doing my job; he was right about one thing, though; they are nice tits!"

I gasped and snapped my head up to look at him, to see his eyes dancing with glee, and I smiled as well, the incident washing out of my mind.

On the way back to our holiday stay, I rolled Charlie's comment over in my mind; I had caught him sneaking peeks at me recently, when he thought I wasn't looking, and to be honest, I might even have stuck my breasts out just a little further, or wriggled my behind a little, just to tease him a little. I had put it down to his normal urges as a teenage boy, but now my mind went back to a conversation in the dormitory before the summer holiday.

We were gathered round before bedtime, talking about lots and nothing at all, when Lorna Boscombe started telling us about when she had caught her younger brother peeking at her in the shower.

"I tell you, it was just the most pervy thing! He's a skinny little twerp, reads too much, no friends, standing there at his little peephole, glopping-away on that laughable little knob of his; no kidding, his glasses are thicker than his knob! He got such a kick in the balls I guarantee he won't be doing that again for a while!"

We all collapsed in gales of horrified laughter; Lorna was the most uninhibited of all of us, but this was a new low, even for her!

She went on; "So, Lucy, have you caught Charlie peeping at you yet? No? Are you going to let him?" with a wicked smirk on her face.

I was caught off guard, and coloured. "N...No, he's always out when I shower, and the doors are frosted glass anyway, it's a completely closed cubicle where we're staying!"

Lorna still had that wicked look on her face. "Well, in that case, send him round to my place; he can ogle me in the shower all he wants!" Some of the other girls got a faraway look at that, and I coloured even higher, but still managed to ask her "What, Charlie?" This was my baby brother she was leering over!

Lorna giggled. "Lucy Manville, have you been in cold-storage all your life? Charlie is a complete fox, 100% prime rib, beef-cake supreme! Honestly, Lu, if you don't want to take a bite out of him, send him round to me and I will, he's fucking gorgeous! I promise you, I'll show him a thing or two, or three, even! I'll bet he's got a cock like a fucking cruise missile, someone should get that while it's still going; fuck, I wish it were me!" The other girls were nodding happily, while I sat there with my eyes open in shocked surprise. Charlie? Really?

After that I started actually looking at Charlie a little more closely. Lorna was right, with his tall muscular frame, curly jet-black hair, dimpled chin, clear pale skin, and eyes like emeralds, he really was fucking gorgeous! Some lucky girl was going to wet herself the day he asks he out, I thought to myself, with a surprised pang of jealousy hot on the heels of the thought.

Then this Sandhurst business started, and I stopped caring about him and girls, and started worrying about him for entirely different reasons. He was setting himself up to become a target, and he wouldn't listen.

The day he went off to Sandhurst, I was so beastly to him. He came to say goodbye, and I blew up again, all my fear, loss, hurt and anger flaring at him.

"If you expect me to congratulate you, you've come to the wrong place. The only soldiers in this family are dead ones, and you're hell-bent on joining them, so go, do this obscenity, just don't expect me to applaud from the sidelines!"

Charlie walked away with shocked hurt in his eyes, and that was the last time I spoke to him until he graduated 3 years later, passing out ready to be deployed to his new regiment.

I got the very occasional letter from him during his studies, and he would call, then hang-up, and I grew lonelier, wallowing in my guilt over the send-off I had given him, but already preparing to hear about his death on patrol in somewhere in Afghanistan, and dreading the day I heard it.

I attended his passing-out parade at Sandhurst, and he came up to me after, looking proud and handsome in his 2nd Lieutenant's uniform, but all I could remember was seeing that same look on dad's face when they marched through Netheravon, on their way to embarkation, and we'd never seen him again.

Charlie was over the moon; he'd been sent into The Blues and Royals, The Household Cavalry, part of the Royal guard division, and if this fucking war wasn't on, he'd be sitting on a black horse, in a silver breastplate and plumed helmet, escorting the Queen from Buckingham Palace, the most romantic soldiers the British Army has; instead, he was going to war.

Yet I couldn't let him just walk away. For 3 years I had been having increasingly overwrought, frightening, no, fucking horrifying, nightmares about finding his dead body mangled and bloody, terribly, mortally torn, his lovely green eyes nothing but dead marbles, and I would wake up screaming in a welter of fear, panic, self-loathing and guilt. I would try and call him, but he never responded to any of the messages I left, and I had despaired of ever seeing him again, until the invitation to attend the parade had arrived.

I took his arm, walking him towards the barracks. "Charlie," I began, "I need to tell you something. I want you to know that I'm here to send you off, not because I approve – you know how I feel about this - but because I love you, and I'm scared for you, so very scared. I promised dad that I would be a good big sister, this isn't what I meant by looking after you, and it wasn't what I wanted for you. This is the real world, a real war-zone you're going to, real guns, real snipers, and real bullets. You're a British officer now, a high-value target, a trophy scalp. Please, please promise me, no heroics? Just do what you have to, then come home safe, my perfect, only little brother, how can I live if I lose you? Don't leave me alone, please, Charlie-boy, please!" I was crying now, big frightened tears, nearly hysterical with fear – but still angry with him for going, and I think he saw it in my eyes, because his jaw set, in that old, stubborn way, before he replied.

"Lu, I promise you, I will do all I can to come back in one piece, that's the only promise I can make. I'm a soldier, an officer, and I have to do what I want the men to do, but I have to do it first, and do it better. I have to lead by example, from the front; that's how a Queen's officer commands."

I realised this was the best he could do, and, paradoxically feeling proud of the man he had become, I pulled him down to kiss his cheek and hug him, but he turned his head slightly and instead I kissed him full on the lips, as I hugged him hard, his arms going around me to hold me tight.

I let him go, and looked at him in wonder; he had done it purposely, and I asked him. "Why, Charlie?"

Charlie grinned lopsidedly. "If my last kiss before going to war was going to be from my beautiful blonde hottie sister, I thought it had better be a good one!"

The call to barracks sounded then, and I had to leave, so I watched my little brother until he was out of sight, fear and loss already churning inside me, together with the memory of that kiss. I drove home, stopping every few miles to have a good cry, and scream at the fucking army for taking him away. I was convinced I would never see him again.

Over the next 2 years, I spent my days working as a surprisingly successful Estate Agent, running my own Lettings business, evenings glued to the news channels, praying I wouldn't hear of casualties from his unit, dreading that I would, and my nights in a haze of complicated nightmares about Charlie, the arguments, blood, battles, green eyes, and that kiss. I resorted to medication to help me sleep, I lost weight, and still there seemed no end in sight.

Then, at last, I heard what I was praying for. Charlie had sent me his itinerary for his return to the UK on leave and asked if he could stay with me, rather than at the transit barracks at Tidworth. Of course I agreed, and took the day off work the day he was due back.

+++

Just when I had convinced myself that he'd changed his mind, that he thought I was still angry with him, that he was not coming back home after all, I heard the taxi draw up outside, and I was at the door before he was out of the car, then suddenly he was there, towering over me, hugging me in a bear hug and kissing the top of my head, me babbling and apologising and crying all at once. Eventually he let go, so I could breathe again, and held me at arms' length, looking me up and down. I looked him up, and then up some more; I had forgotten how tall he was, and now he seemed even taller, his hair shorter. Some of the baby roundness had gone from his face, to be replaced by new planes and angles, the boy's face changing, being replaced by the man he would become. His bone structure was now more apparent; my God, he had delicious cheekbones, but his eyes and smile were the same. I was so relieved; he was home, and, for now, safe. I pulled him down with my hands on each side of his face to kiss him full on the lips, and, on impulse, slipped my tongue in and gave him a quick lick.

His eyes widened, and he pulled me closer, holding me close for what seemed an eternity as I kissed him, softly, tenderly, all my love for this beautiful boy in my lips, his tongue flicking out to lick the tip of mine.

I broke away, suddenly realising what I had done, to see shocked puzzlement, laughter, and something else in his luminous green eyes. "Why are you late?" I asked, to cover my sudden confusion.

"I had to wait for my Dispersal Orders and sign for my kit, there was a queue. Wow Lu-Lu, if I knew you kissed like that I'd have chanced my arm years ago!" he exclaimed, pulling me closer to hug me again. I was still confused as to why I had done it, but, I had to agree with Lorna Boscombe all over again; he was fucking gorgeous!

Charlie looked closely at my face, into my eyes, to see tears, of happiness, in the corners. He reached up to cup my face with both slender hands, and pulled me close, kissing me again, softly, lovingly, his tongue snaking out to rub along my teeth as he tasted my mouth, and my arms slid around his neck to hold him close as I tasted his loving kiss, two years of fear finally over.

We broke by mutual consent, confused thoughts running through my mind, along with my growing appreciation of just how much man I was holding here. My love-life had been almost non-existent over the last few years, worry for Charlie predominating, so when I had had a sexual encounter, it was almost invariably with my best friend, a piece of Fantastic Plastic. Now I had my hands on a real live soldier-boy, and the thought excited me, my brother notwithstanding!

I turned to go in, Charlie picking up his duffel and following me in. Once inside, he sat down and took hold of my hand, pulling me to him, to once again kiss me like before, giving me no chance pull back, not that I would have; I wanted to do it, wrong or not; his kiss was exciting, sending a clean thrill through me, and I wanted it to continue;

I wanted to hold him close, and reassure myself that he was real, and safe, and unharmed.

Charlie pulled me even closer, until I was sitting astride him on the couch, our lips locked together as his tongue slid into my mouth. I wrapped my arms around his neck, holding my mouth to his, and his hands slid down to slide over my bum and start to knead and squeeze.

Pleasurable as it was, I had to break- off to look him in the eyes; those fabulous, deep, sea-green eyes!

"Charlie, what are we doing? You're my kid brother; I'm your big sister!"

"Lu-Lu, you're a stunner, a fab kisser, and I'm enjoying the feel of you so close to me!" he retorted.

I tried to apologise for initiating this, but Charlie silenced me with his mouth and tongue, his hands roaming over my buttocks again, squeezing the cheeks together, then sliding up to catch hold of my breasts, barely contained in my tiny bra. I tried, weakly, to make him stop, but I wanted him to continue, I had waited for him back for the last 2 years, so I was going to enjoy the nearness of him, any way I could!

"Charlie, please, let me go, I'm sorry, this is wrong, I didn't mean to heat you up like this, I'm your big sister, I should know better!" I protested too much. I liked this, it felt right, even though I knew it was wrong.

He slid his hands up under my skirt to cup my buttocks, raising an eyebrow as he encountered my thong, which I had worn on an impulse; normally I don't wear them, preferring more conventional panties.

"Lu, I don't care that you're my sister, neither should you. For now, can't I just be a returning soldier, come home to the only girl who loves and missed him?"

My heart, and any token resistance I was thinking of putting-up, melted when I saw the sincerity in his eyes. Charlie could never put one over on me, and I saw no hint of deception or wheedling now, just my lovely brother expressing his feelings for me. I dipped my head down to kiss him again, in acceptance of what he said, and recognition of the strong physical attraction here; he in turn pulled me closer by my buttocks, mashing my breasts against his rock-hard chest.

I had been growing aware of the growing hardness in his lap, and, knowing what it was, I slid my pussy against it, frigging myself and letting Charlie know that I was his, and that I would be available, if that was what he wanted; by the size of the lump in his Desert-pattern DPM trousers, he had grown in more ways than one, and right now, he was all I wanted, or needed, in a man.

As our kisses continued, Charlie slid his hands up under my top to squeeze and fondle my breasts; sliding his fingers under the cups he popped my bra off to leave my breasts and nipples in his hands, nipples that were rapidly erecting under his talented fingers, rubbing and slightly pinching them, rolling them between his fingers, and sliding his thumbs across them.

This was too much for me, and I pulled my light top off, followed by my bra, so Charlie could have better access. He gazed lovingly at my chest, "Blimey, Lu, I knew you had a nice pair, but this is a fucking amazing sight!"

With that, he pulled me closer to start sucking them, twirling my nipples with his tongue, first one, then the other, making the itch in my pussy intensify, making my need to scratch it more urgent.

I kissed Charlie on his lips and licked down his chin, finding an odd patch of hard, smooth skin under and around his chin. I rubbed my finger over it and looked enquiringly at him.

"It's from the chinstrap on the Mark 6, and the weapon-catch on the neck-piece of my body armour" he grinned, "we've all got it, mark of service in Helmand; anyone tells you he served in the infantry and doesn't have that, he's bull-shitting you to get your knickers off!" I grinned back, but I was once again dismayed that my little brother had been, and was going back to, somewhere that dangerous he had to wear body-armour so often it had marked his beautiful, sweet face permanently.

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