Dave and Jenna's Naked Day

First North American Serial Rights

Dave and Jenna's Naked Day

by Zapperz

I was dreaming a dream of ten years previous, a time long before my present reality.

It was 1976, and I was still a civilian living at home, lying naked in bed in my attic room, getting a really good blowjob.

Wendy was naked too, on all fours and straddling me, humping her wet pussy on my left calf, holding my cock in both fists, sliding her sweet mouth up and down, sucking energetically at the two or so inches protruding from her two-fisted grip. I twined my fingers into her curly Afro, moaning as her sucking got really good to me.

She answered my moans with little whimpers, humping my calf a little faster, the tickly bubble inside my loins growing and growing. I was going to explode in her mouth, she'd swallow every drop and I'd still be hard and we'd both want more....

Wendy took one fist away and slid her fingers between her legs, getting them good and slick. Then she pushed two of those slick fingers into my ass, finding my prostate and massaging until the combo of her mouth and fingers made that big tickly come-bubble pop.

I woke up all at once to see Jenna's sweet mouth working on me, short chestnut pixie curls bouncing, her own moaning O-face as she humped my calf.

It was her fingers inside me as I cried out, jacked my hips up and blasted off in her mouth.... not Wendy's. And it was her crying out around me, coming from sucking me off.... not Wendy.

When I stopped coming, she stopped sucking, sliding up to kiss me; I tasted myself in her mouth before she scampered away to get a sudsy washcloth to clean us. It was fucking awesome.

My Seiko said it was a little past one in the afternoon, and I noticed a pile of our boots and uniforms by the bed. We'd been so tired at shift's end that we'd had some Sleepytime herbal tea in the kitchen, then gone upstairs, stripped naked and slid into bed, without even hanging them up. And obviously I'd slept deeply enough to dream of a memorable blowjob delivered ten years ago by the cousin I'd grown up with, back in Dorchester.

She cleaned us both, tossed the washcloth on top of the pile, and lay down next to me, smiling as she explained my spectacularly sexy wake-up.

"An hour ago, I woke up to see you on your back, deep asleep, hard, and huge. I wondered just what you were dreaming of, and got a major lady-boner.... betting you were dreaming of me."

"I was dreaming about my cousin Wendy sucking me off one night, the summer she graduated from college."

"You dirtbag.... you should be dreaming of me, your fiancée, sucking you off in your dreams. So how was it?"

"You Do It Better, honey."

"Excellent answer.... corrected to 100 percent. Anyway, you were hard, and dribbling, and just watching you dream made me so damn horny. I lay next to you and teased my clit for a while, imagining that big thing thrusting inside me. In my pussy, in my mouth.... in my butt. Wondering all the while, what was getting you so hot. Hoping to maybe watch you come in your sleep.... I've seen Jamie do that, twice."

"You horny little thing! And you just watched me and diddled yourself, until—"

"Until I decided it would be nice for us both if I—wait for it!—woke you with a blowjob. After all, you woke me up by going down on me once. I still get wet just thinking about that."

"I aim to please."

"When you came in my mouth fireworks went off in my pussy, Dave.... Boston Pops, Fourth of July, 1812 Overture.... all that!"

I felt pleasantly drained, basking in the Esplanade-caliber moment we'd had. "Maybe we should do that more often."

*************

Jenna had beaten me home that morning, as evidenced by her leaving the little blue plastic Hawaiian lei looped over the garage-door handle. It meant that when I pulled up to the garage door, her beloved Blue Beetle was inside, so it was my turn to park in the driveway.

When I got inside, she was still in uniform, pouring boiling water into the two mugs with our names on them that we'd gifted ourselves our first Christmas together. "Hi, sweetie," she said, "tea's on."

"Sleepytime, I hope," I said, sliding behind her, kissing her neck and palming her cute little boobs through her BDU top. She giggled, and then we yawned, in unison; we were tired.... crispy fried to a crackly crunch. Tired as fuck.

It was eight-twenty in the morning, and we'd had a busy midnight tour on both sides of the house.... her Law Enforcement flight spent most of the shift shuttling between two different dorms, quieting down drunken airmen fighting over the same rotating cast of dorm whores.

My Missile Security guys kept the missiles in the Ground-Launched Cruise Missile Alert and Maintenance Area (GAMA) quite secure behind three separate fences, a shitload of sensors and barbed wire. It was, however, the Wankham Common Women's Peace Camp's favorite day of the week; British law being what it was, the peace women who were permanent residents in the five camps ringing the base got weekly "Social Security"(welfare/unemployment) checks delivered to them.

They could actually claim the camp as a permanent address to get "on the Dole," and when they got their checks, they found their way to the bank in Melbury to cash them. Then they went to the only bottle-shop in town that would still serve them, and bought cheap wine.

After those purchases, they went to the Black Tower pub in Melbury, off-limits to us Yanks because it was the local source of "Cannabis," Brit-speak for "weed." There, they bought enough cannabis to stay baked through their vandalistic orgies.

Back at their camps, they smoked their weed, drank their wine, built bonfires and danced around them, getting high; it was a sure sign that after sundown, they'd be cutting holes in the perimeter fence and coming in to vandalize or sabotage our equipment.

I liked to compare it to John Wayne's character in Fort Apache, Capt. Kirby Yorke, interpreting the Indian drums.

My Security Response teams assisted the LE side in chasing them down, and The Cops as a whole thwarted their attempts all fucking night; when you can't be in a real John Ford Cavalry Western, you make do with the Injuns on hand.

Now, the two of us had three days off, and as we dried off after our shower, my frisky fiancée of two months had an idea. I always listen to her ideas.

"Dave, we've got enough food and drink that we don't have to leave this house at all unless World War Three happens, Mars attacks, or our commanders really need us. If we really want something, like Peking Duck, we can have Kerrikabs deliver it."

"Your point?"

"Let's stay inside, and have a naked day!"

"Huh?"

"Butt-naked, sweetie. Wearing no clothes, only sneakers in the house.... nothing else. Do everything naked, not just what we usually do naked. All day, all night."

"Okay then, Naked Day it is!" Kind of a nudist camp for two. Wow. Could be hot .

I splashed on some Chaz, she spritzed some Charlie, both of us laced into our black low-top P-F Flyers; off we went downstairs to scare up a meal, and we apparently had the same thing in mind.

"American Chop Suey for dinner tonight!" Jenna crowed.

"Works for me!" I watched as she pulled the canned ingredients out, cute little boobs jiggling as she bounced around between the cupboards. She actually got me halfway hard as I pulled out our Dutch oven, some onions, peppers, ground beef and, of course, a box of elbow macaroni.

In no time at all, working together, we had the Dutch oven full of the simmering staple of our Boston childhoods. As it cooked, we stood at our kitchen counter sipping beers as we studied each other's broad-daylight nudity.

"It feels really naughty, doesn't it?" she giggled, reaching to play with my nipples. I bent to give both of hers a playful lick.

"I think we're gonna enjoy Naked Day."

*************

Jenna grew up in Roslindale, a couple of neighborhoods over from me; we both graduated from Boston Technical High School (GO TIGERS!) me in 1971, she in 1976. Her Tech windbreaker with the letter for varsity soccer caught my eye, and so did the woman inside it, the night we met in the Military Terminal at JFK, in January of 1985.

We were enroute to England, and we discovered in conversation that we were assigned to the same base. The conversation as we flew across went on, interrupted only by a snooze or two, for the whole seven-hour flight.

We'd endured the first four months at RAF Wankham Common helping our respective units prepare for the week-long NATO Tactical Evaluation, and we'd been kept apart by work and circumstances. We were so exhausted that our only off-duty contact was phone conversations before bed.

The night the TacEval ended, the pressure was off, and we finally got together the way we both had wanted to.

I took her home with me, and after we took turns showering off a week's worth of high-stakes war-games, we ate a nice Indian Tandoori meal, delivered by the local taxi company.

Then we snuggled together on my living room couch in sweats, sipping Scotch and Diet Pepsi, watching Doctor Strangelove. (Yeah, irony abounds; ignore it for now.)

By mid-movie, we were out of our sweats, having fierce, crazy sex on my couch, as General Ripper explained Purity Of Essence to Group Captain Mandrake.

The end of the next week found us moving her into my rented townhouse, in a village near the base--close enough for a timely response in emergencies, but far enough away to keep the nosy noses of the Tactical Missile Wing at bay.

Our command echelon would heartily disapprove, because Captains aren't supposed to be sleeping with, much less cohabiting with, Staff Sergeants.

We'd been seen kissing in my car after Base Orientation, the week we reported in; it'd been reported by one of the base's network of informers. Both our commanders warned us about the evils of—and penalties for--fraternization, and we'd even been watched for a while.

Because of all that crap, we keep our off-duty lives very private, just like the two or three other such couples we know; on-duty, we're sharply-creased, spit-shined, highly competent professionals who work on opposite sides of the base.

Jenna's a smart woman with a BA in Political Science from UMass Boston, a line number for Technical Sergeant, and orders to Officer Training School. It's likely she'll be a Second Lieutenant before she gets another stripe; all this from a gal who told me she joined the Air Force because she "needed a change of scenery." Another story, altogether!

The Air Force has generally been a great way of life, but we've both had a snootful of the mega-corporate shit-bucket that calls itself the regular military; after she finishes her post-commissioning obligation, we're leaving active duty and transferring our commissions to the Air National Guard.

Right now, we're doing our active duty helping to wage the Cold War, such as it is--and, as we've revealed to you, doing each other off duty. Speaking of which....

*************

"Looks like dinner's ready." She lifted the lid of the stewpot and the aroma filled the kitchen. I turned off the burner as she replaced the lid on the pot, looked up and wiggled her cute little boobs at me. "I'm ready to eat too, Dave."

I lifted her onto the kitchen counter between the stove and the washer-dryer stack; she sat with her legs open and I was face-to-face with her sexy pussy.

"Oh yeah, sweetie," she giggled, hooking her legs over my shoulders and pulling me closer to her trimmed, curly patch. I love the way it holds her scent.... to push my nose into it and inhale.

I breathed her in, feeling my cock throb in response, kissing her pussy before I plunged my tongue into her swollen wet heat.

Jenna gasped and moaned, closing her thighs reflexively around my head as I wiggled the hood of her clit around with my tongue, teasing the stiffened little marble underneath. She wriggled around on the countertop, pumping her hips to urge her clit against my lips and tongue, mumbling something I couldn't really hear as she laced her hands together at the back of my head.

Then her thighs relaxed and quit covering my ears, and I could hear again as I slid my tongue under the hood, lashing her clit as her thighs began to tremble.

"Davey, sweetie! Ohmyfuckingod, do it, I'm gonna—"

Then she was yelling and panting through gritted teeth, pumping wildly as she pulled my head against her pussy, body jerking as her orgasm surged through her.

I kept licking at her clit as she came, until she pushed my mouth away, panting. As I straightened up, she leaped from the counter, slid her arms around my neck and kissed me and we both tasted her.

"C'mon, sweetie," she said, leading me out of the kitchen and out to the couch. "Dinner will stay warm."

She pushed me onto the sofa, on my back. Going down on her makes me harder than tax time, and she climbed over me, took my swinging tower in hand and slid herself on, sighing as she hilted herself.

Jenna bent to kiss me, rub her cute little boobs into my chest, and talk dirty to me. I mean, really dirty.

With me all the way inside her, she started slowly grinding her hips up and down, snug wet heat gripping and stroking, and she kissed me and stared into my eyes.

"Dad caught me masturbating in my room, one afternoon," she whispered, feeling my cock surge inside her and answering it with a good squeeze, giggling and grinding her hips a little faster. "Naked, fresh out of the shower, dried off and lying in my recliner, in the sun that came through the window."

I had a mental picture of younger Jenna, naked in her sunny room, teasing her nipples with one hand and sliding the other up and down between her open legs. Eyes closed, thinking of.... what?

"Thinking of Jamie, because he was coming down from Goddard for the weekend.... and bringing Bernie."

Oh yeah, your twin brother and his then-girlfriend-now-spouse, who met at that hippie-dippie alternative college in Vermont.

Jenna has mentioned, from time to time, that the three of them spent their first couple years of college hanging out together on the weekends, having every kind of sex two girls and a guy could do. They reasoned that it was safer than dating, more convenient, and a hell of a lot more fun. I got that—to an extent, my college years with Wendy were similar.

My mental picture became Jenna on her back in bed, her brother licking her pussy while Bernie sucked her nipples, one then the other, moaning their names, drifting from orgasm to orgasm. Oh my God.

And now the tickly come-bubble inside me was back and growing as I saw her in my mind, lying in the recliner, rubbing faster, pumping her hips at her fingers, thighs starting to tremble.

She lay on top of me grinding her hips harder and faster, hissing breaths between her whispers.

"I heard footsteps on the stairs outside and I thought I was going to time it so he'd see me come as he walked in, and I was moaning, "yes, Jamie, yes.... do it to me!" as the door opened. I came wicked hard, thinking I was coming in front of my brother!"

I was wishing I'd been there as her pussy clamped tighter around me and brought me fully back into the now.

"I opened my eyes, and instead of Jamie taking off his clothes, there was my Dad, open-mouthed and fucking speechless, holding my mail! Ohhh Gawddd!"

Jenna put her head down and screamed into my chest through gritted teeth, pounding her loins against mine, trying to get me deeper as my come-bubble burst and I shot a good hot load inside her.

The two of us spasmed against each other, riding the sensation as far as it let us go. Finally, we lay limp and panting in each other's arms, and she delivered the rest of the story.

"Dad apologized, left the mail on my bed and nearly fell getting out of the room and back downstairs," she whispered, "but not before I noticed he got a boner. He got hard in his sweatpants, watching his daughter come! Mom was doing something down in the kitchen, but not for long--as I lay there, I heard them giggling, then I heard him bend her over the kitchen table and fuck her silly!"

"And you masturbated some more, I bet."

"Oh yeah.... it turned me on to know my Dad got hard watching me come, and that fantasy really took off; Electra isn't just a town in Texas, and oh my God, you're still hard. I want you on top now, sweetie."

My turn to push her onto the couch on her back, open her legs as she took a long glance at the big bouncing thing that had lately been inside her.... and drew her knees up, offering her pussy to me with a challenge.

"Do you want to fuck your Princess, Daddy?"

We like our fantasy play.... I mean really like it.

I'm a downed pilot, she's a Resistance fighter; she's Miss Scarlett and I'm the Mandingo who makes her forget all about Rhett. I'm the Traveling Salesman, she's the Farmer's Daughter; she's the Professor willing to give me an A so she can carry out advanced studies of the big-ass bulge in my jeans.

Sometimes we create our own Blue Lagoon, or some variation on the theme; our fantasies are a great place to get away from the reality of our Cold War lives.

Whether she's the babysitter getting a ride home or just being a Princess, Jenna only wants Daddy to fuck her good.... so here we are in one of the fantasy rooms that turns us on most.

"I see the way you look at me when nobody else can see, Daddy. You want to touch my butt like you do Mom's, rub my special places, kiss my neck and make me want you. I don't even mind if you see me naked, Daddy."

She dipped between her legs, showed me her wet fingers. "See how wet I am? Looking at my perky teenage boobs and my cute little butt makes you hard." Oh yeah, sure does.

Her breathing quickened, she was really getting into this and so was I.... my turn to excite her.

"You've seen me hard, too, haven't you? Peeping on me when I jerked off in the shower so I'd last longer when I fucked your Mom." She nodded, a hungry look in her eyes.

"Then you watched me fuck your Mom through the half-open bedroom door.... touching yourself, wanting to be her, wanting Daddy to fuck you, didn't you?"

"I know you want me, Daddy.... please fuck me." I pulled her close, kissed her, slipped my tongue into her ear.

"You are at that age, Princess.... when a girl really needs her Dad."

Then I thrust forward and down, sliding into her tight heat as she curled her pussy up, burying me all the way inside her, moaning and clinging to me.

"Yes, Daddy, yes," she cried, thrusting up at me, "fuck your Princess!"

I held her shoulders and just fucked her. "So tight, honey.... just like your Mom!"

Jenna just breathed long moaning breaths that matched my fucking rhythm, whimpering every time I hit bottom inside. Her nipples rubbed into my chest as I drove her into the couch cushions.