tagIncest/TabooSummer of '71: Heat Wave

Summer of '71: Heat Wave

byOldDog©

Mark stepped onto the tarmac of the small county airport. The craft bringing him almost home wasn't that large for a commercial jet but it got the job done. The shimmering, blistering Southwest Texas heat slammed at him like a blowtorch. He didn't flinch; he didn't even acknowledge it was literally scorching the plants around him. He adjusted his sunglasses while walking toward the terminal; where he had been during the past few years, this was a minor vacation to his body and mind.

As he walked toward the ARRIVALS sign on the small air terminal, his mind subconsciously calculated and categorized the positions, placements, and motions of all things human and mechanical around him. His eyes were absorbing movements and shadows around him; this was now his nature as well his focus in life. He was not that unusual from any other person disembarking from the flight. His military uniform was - well, slightly wrinkled from nearly 27 hours of flying airport to airport, waiting for the next link to bring him closer to his destination. The Vietnam conflict was in full swing so military and naval personnel were easily seen many places; so were protestors, used car salesmen, and other typically civilian life forms that Mark cared less about. He was indistinguishable from other military personnel unless you looked into his eyes; they made you think about checking your life insurance payments.

The air conditioning touched his skin as he passed through the sliding doors. He located his duffle bag and travel kit, and then headed out to find transportation that went far from the typical routes. He had another 120 or so miles to go before he could relax, sit down in some peace and quiet, and then let his mind and body settle. When he left several years ago, a modest, nondescript county bus service ran through the small town he was headed toward. A short conversation with Airport Security directed him over the pedway and the airport entrance road toward a small, weather worn sign at the end of the shuttle bus lanes that listed that same service. The shade of a large elm tree covered a concrete bench.

Propping his duffle against end of the concrete bench, he allowed himself the opportunity to sit down and relax. None of the airline seats or the terminal chairs he had been cursed to endure for the past two days would allow any respite. The concrete bench, however, had its own silent strength out here in the open. It proudly displayed a history in scuff marks, pencil markings, the obligatory occasional chip gone from the corner, and it was actually somewhat cool being in the shade of a large elm tree. Behind his wrap around sun glasses, he surveyed his newer surroundings as he had done while disembarking the plane.

Satisfied the terrain was not hostile, nor indicated possible forces in shadowed hiding, Mark allowed himself the pleasure of letting his body relax and enjoy the cool warmth of the bench and the shade of the tree. Anyone coming near him might notice that he had yet to indicate discomfort with the searing heat and humidity, he was not sweating nor was he showing any problems with the humidity. He knew no one would have a likelihood of recognizing the person that left those thousands of days long ago as the military person sitting there now. That former person was a slight, chubby, shy, and significantly naïve person compared to the professional warrior with the well-chiseled body now holding the same name. Maybe the same spirit, most certainly not same mind or the same focus.

An archaic, wheezing bus rumbled in to the loading zone lane; Mark boarded it to finish the next, and hopefully the last, leg his transporting ever closer to home ground. The bus was old enough to be the same one he departed on - inwardly he smiled. That bus ran like shit and rode like crap back then; it appeared that some minor god had resurrected this clunker back into running condition just for him. No evidence any air conditioning other than the "10-50 AC" - wheezing downhill at 50 mph with all 10 windows open - had ever blessed this old beast.

Relaxing on the rear bench seat, Mark allowed himself to enter a light, restful asleep as the old bus chugged onward toward his destination. The same dream he had several times crept back into his mind's eye - a family scene with 2-3 small kids, nice house, probably his spouse in the kitchen working on supper, him in jeans and a t-shirt, and then the door bell rings. He opens the door - a war weary marine covered with old blood stains, some dirty bandages, and several bandoliers of ammo grabs his shirt and drags him from his house into the jungle where suddenly he is transformed into his own cammies, his own weapons, and is tracking a target in his sniper rifle sights. The quiet "phut" - "phut" firing of his own sniper silencer wakes him up again, as always, and he quietly looks around his position without moving his body. It has only been about 45 minutes but Mark feels rested enough to slide back into a light sleep again that does not have a dream he can recall. He knows its wishful thinking - that's what a base camp shrink told him once after a debriefing from an especially grueling mission.

About two hours later, Mark awoke as the bus began a slight descent into a small Texas town. This town, like so many other country towns off the main freeways, looked worn and tired. Not quite enough money to stay neat and tidy, the phrase keep well painted and spruced up he remembered as he left the bus and stepped on home ground. It did not escape his vision that the court house still needed bricks around the front right cornice piece fixed, or that the grocery store had "country fresh eggs" on sale.

He gathered his gear as the driver pulled it from the vehicle storage bin and headed toward the one small hotel in town; he hoped it was still there. The few people he passed acknowledged his presence quietly with a typical West Texas "howdy nod" and politely moved to give him room as he passed with his duffle bag. His quiet smile bode them no malice; his heart and soul were glad to be back on home turf. The hotel was still there, the rooms were still clean, and the price had not gone through the roof like other places. The desk clerk gave him directions to the one rental car agency in town - along with her own small town opinion of people who didn't own their own cars. Mark smiled, thanked her, and promptly located his room so he could unload his bags.

In the room, he stripped to his skin, used his sweaty shorts to wipe the dust off his shoes before he set them together on the floor, and his finger prints off his brass belt buckle before rolling up his belt for storage. This was the routine he had learned in training; it served him well all these years. He unconsciously scratched his balls and tugged on his nut sack around a few times to stretch the skin out and back; a typical male thing that just felt good. He tugged on the end of the extra foreskin that covered the head of his flaccid penis, pulled it back and forth to stroke himself a few times before getting into a real shower, with real water pressure.

Standing in the shower, he leaned forward to put his hands on the wall and let the water run all over his body and cascade down his ass to the shower floor. The water also ran down his dick and onto the floor, he laughed to himself about having to pee that much and let his urine mix with the water until he was done. A good scrubbing later, Mark stepped out feeling much more human and much more relaxed than a half-hour before. He dried himself, walked nude across the room and turned on the television and see what channels he could receive. The summer heat created severe havoc and massive static with most of what was available mid-afternoon. He was able to see part of a local weather report - hot, hotter, and even hotter was the afternoon comment. The afternoon farm to market report said it was 112 degrees in the shade; he wondered whose shade?

A phone call later, he dressed in some faded jeans, a light colored shirt, socks, and well worn black loafers to walk the 8 blocks to the rental car dealer. After a half hour of more "we're the first here" talk than important data on him and his expired license, he had a new, black Ford sedan - with air conditioning for $3 a day more - under his control. He visited the courthouse, bought a new road map for the county roads, and then headed for the real reason he had come home. The roads had not changed much, the crops in the fields looked the same summer burnt brown, but it was good to have the map to locate new interchanges or the occasional new drive back to a farm house. The years since his last visit began to melt away as the miles to the property drive entrance became less and less.

Mark turned in to the drive and then slowed to a stop. He took several deep, long breaths to calm his soul - this was a mantra with him because he knew as soon as he entered the house he would not be thinking with his head; he would be thinking with his heart and his slowly rising dick. He eased toward the house and parked in the turn around area. As he stepped from the car, a slender woman with mildly blonde-brown hair opened the screen door and walked out to the screened porch walkway. Mark's heart went right into his throat and he felt his common sense draining right into his now quickly inflating dick. Every memory, every smell, every sense was suddenly heightened and on full alert. From 10 feet away, he could see her nipples rising in her plain yellow blouse; he could see the pinkness of her areoles around them. He knew she never wore a bra unless she was going to town.

As he stepped on to the porch, she moved into his arms and laid her head on his shoulder as he kissed her ever so softly, ever so gently. It had been a long time since he had last kissed those warm, soft lips; he wanted to savor every touch, every feeling, and every part of her. Her breath smelled just like the same tooth paste it had always smelled, her deodorant was still the same. He could just smell her woman's scent; he knew that just being there she was getting very wet between her legs in anticipation of him being inside her one more time.

As he kissed her, his hands held her close and gently felt her back and shoulders before moving down to lovingly cup both buttocks. He knew she would not have any panties on, either. She never wore any under clothes unless she was going somewhere that needed them. Mark used his hands to kneed her butt cheeks and pull them slightly apart and back together; that made her move even closer into his embrace and against his body. She smiled and kissed his cheek, and then took his hand to lead him into the small house. It was cooler than standing in the breezeway - she was becoming soaked with sweat, her blouse and skirt were turning see-through which made the lack of under garments even more tantalizing to Mark. He could just see the outline of her crotch through her dress; that was a tease in itself even though she never thought so.

In the house, she walked ahead of him to the kitchen where she turned, kissed him again, and then reached for two glasses to pour some iced tea. Mark already knew how good it would taste - home brewed sun tea; no place and no restaurant could match it. He took the glasses, put some ice cubes into them and then added the tea. As he sat in the kitchen table chair, she came to him; as she went to sit on his leg, she pulled her summer skirt up until it was just below where her crotch would show to anyone looking at her and her bare ass was sitting on his jeans. Her legs were lightly tanned like the rest of her body; Mark would look later for the faint tan lines that he might find. As she sat down and leaned her head into his chest, he began to ever-slowly rub her thighs with a very light circular touch. No push or pull, just his finger tips on the skin of her legs - taking in and re-memorizing every small, simple detail of her total body as he immersed his mind in touching this woman.

As he felt the skin all the way up under her skirt, and then around to her sides and parts of her hips and the sides of her butt cheeks, she breathed slower and deeper, and just buried her head farther into his chest as her first mini-orgasm crept into the edge of her mind. The first ones were never physical - they were always mental each time he touched her in the way that only he had learned would please her, again and again. As Mark kept up the slow caresses, she felt another surge cross her heart and soul, and she opened her legs farther apart for him when he would reach that place. She knew he would; it was never if he would touch her and send her mind rocketing into some far away place, it was only how long before he completed his memory update, as he called it, of her entire body.

Mark knew he could spend hours just loving the feel of the touch of her skin any place on her body. He loved taking his finger tips and very, very lightly touching every square inch of her body, inside and out. He had already felt her first small orgasm just from his stroking the top of her thighs; when he moved onto other more sensitive points, she would have some so big that he would have to hold her on his leg whole her body shook and she tried to shove his finger up inside her body until his arm might disappear. He knew that she knew he was in no hurry to bring her to pleasure; each and every time they had been together, he had always been able to give her more erotic pleasure in one week than all of the rest of her life. Her life had not been simple but his loving and caring made it well worth the wait.

As he moved ever closer to the apex of her thighs with his caresses, she was so wet his jeans were becoming soaked where she sat on his leg. She slowly stood up, knowing her legs would barely support her, and took his hand. Shaking, she led him out of the kitchen and down to a large bedroom at the end of a hallway. In the bedroom, she guided him to sit on the side of the bed before she backed up, reached down to unbutton her skirt and let it fall to the floor. This made her naked from the waist down. Coming back to sit on his leg again with her legs apart, he once again began the slow caresses. He pulled her inner leg up against him so her crotch was open to his touches. She stopped breathing for a second or two when his fingers first gently touched the top of her pubic hair. No hurry, no rush to get inside her; Mark let his fingers play lightly in her sparse, light brown pussy hair. He was drawing light circles in her hair; her breath became more and more ragged as her chest pushed out for his touches.

As he played back and forth, just sliding his fingers around in her pubic region, she grabbed his arm and held it in place as she had a much stronger orgasm than the other two. She literally poured her female fluids on his pants but he didn't care at all. As she held on, he carefully slid his finger right to the top of her pubic split and just kept it right there. Not quite in to the top part of her female slit, not quite on top of the hood covering her clit, but right where she would know where it really was located. This nearly drove her right into another orgasm; she held his wrist even tighter as her legs shook, her body vibrated, and then she slumped into him in a light daze. Mark took the initiative to remove her blouse while she was in this dream state, put one of her arms around his neck which pulled her back up close to him, and then gently cupped a soft breast with his fingers.

He loved the texture of her nipples and the surrounding skin on her breasts - silk, smooth, no tan lines, and several freckles across the span usually open to the Texas heat. As he held the nipple, he slowly rolled it in his fingers and softly squeezed it, not hard, but enough to feel the spongy reflexes, it brought back many memories of previous times and previous pleasures they had learned what each other liked and then really liked. He quietly moved his hand to hold her entire breast; she moved to kiss him and to force the hand holding her breast to close tighter to her chest. Slowly, he moved his hand down below that breast where he could slide the back of his hand back and forth "across the hills" as he pictured it. From the swell of one breast to the swell of the other breast, slightly rolling each nipple, or that soft squeeze again, he was enjoying the feel of the goose bumps popping up all over her skin as the hair on his hand touched her skin.

Using his other hand, he had cupped a butt cheek and was caressing it as well. From her tail bone to the middle of her hip, and back. Slowly, with his fingertips, sometimes down the side, sometimes down and inside her leg from outside inward; he could almost touch the outer lips of her pussy and move his fingers across her rectal opening. Each time his finger came closer, she felt herself moving to have him touch her anal opening but he would just skirt around it, leaving her climbing that wall again. Quickly he skimmed her rectum, rubbed it, and moved on. That gave her a smile and a quick shiver but not enough to send her over the end again.

Slowly disengaging herself, she stood up and pulled him to a standing position. As he stood, she took off his plaid shirt, the white t-shirt, felt his chest and all the tremendous muscle details she could see before unbuckling his belt and the button on his jeans. As he stepped out of his jeans, she knew his semi-hard penis would pop out and upward since he never wore underwear in civilian clothes. She loved holding him soft, semi-hard, or ramrod stiff - any condition and any reason she could get to hold his penis in her hand, or in her body some place. His capability to "use, amuse, tantalize, and please" her with it or the rest of his body parts was established a long time ago.

Taking him in her hand, she pulled the skin back until the head was totally exposed and then rubbed her thumb over the velvety head. A few more strokes until she felt good that she touched all of his genitals, she went down on her knees to help him step out of his jeans without tripping. His penis was long for most men, near 9 ½ inches, but he was not so huge around so that it made sex difficult without feeling like he was going to rip her open. She had seen some pictures once of some supposed studs - their dicks looked deformed in how huge they were around. Even the mare in the barn would probably go bug-eyed getting jammed with one of them.

As she got his jeans off Mark's legs, she took his penis into her mouth without using her hands, just sort of nuzzled around until she had some of him to suck on. Almost as slowly as he caressed her, she sucked on him. No real style or plan, he wasn't fully hard yet so it bent in the middle but that was fine, she kept working it back and forth until he was getting harder. Still no hands, she let go for a minute, used her cheek to lift up his penis so she could kiss his ball sack and suck on it before returning to just holding the head of his now hard dick inside her mouth. Using her mouth, she pushed the skin back from the back of the head so it was completely clear and then just sucked on the head, licked on it ,and mostly mumbled her mouth around the crown until she felt his nuts begin to drawn up. She sucked real hard just once and then pulled her mouth slowly back off his dick before she stood.

As she stood, Mark held her close so they could both enjoy the nakedness, the complete body profile. He was in excellent shape and she was no slouch, either. The country work, riding horses, and walking almost every place she went kept her trim, lean, and in fine shape. His dick naturally stood up between them but it was lined up with her slit; he pushed it down as she stepped closer and raised one leg enough to his dick go between them and nestle between her vaginal lips. He let go, she let her leg down, and then he pushed against her as she pushed against him. This forced his dick to bow out slightly right at the downward bend near his pubic bone and push against her hooded clit as she leaned into him.

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byOldDog© 7 comments/ 94566 views/ 9 favorites

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