Hazel and Dan in the Hazy Days of Fall Bk. 06

Everyone in this tale of young love and lust is 18+.

Hazel and Dan in the Hazy days of Fall. Book 06

Ellen called John in and says. "We need your help, John; he needs to speak in front of people till he's not afraid anymore. We need to show him he is enough, and speaking in front of Toastmasters International will do it if we get him to you, Hazel glass or not. I am betting all my money on your baby Hazy."

Bob walks in and says. "I have a membership in it too, it's a must-have speaking in front of a judge, But I call Mr. Deed. It was his help that made me at ease speaking."

My life is much more than a few months ago. I would have thought I desired none of this as the dream of my youth; I had none till a young woman opened my world by sharing hers with me. I earned my love, but it's a well-deserved victory when you work hard on your dreams. I sure had help in this room. The Sunday rolled around, and I drove my baby to her church in my new suit and with you on my arm. We walk into the church, still not where I want to be, but again I am here for Hazel.

Going home for Sunday lunch, I had put all the leftovers in a soup pot, bones and all, and left for church with it on low. I filtered the bones out and made garlic toast. We had turkey soup, and it froze up the leftover as a soup starter. Mr. and Mrs. Deed came over, and we went to John's office, and my day lasted till six pm.

We came out to smells of hot homemade Pizzas, our choice of toppings; two more are in the oven. I see Hazel beaming; my heart tells me this is Hazel's first meal she's cooked. I glance at Jean, hoping for a clue none is forthcoming; note to self don't play poker with her. I look at Ellen, but her smile is slipping through. The guys were poker players, not giving me an inch. I'm clueless, but my heart knows Hazel always tells me to trust my heart. It won't lead me astray.

I asked out loud. "Hazel Hon, I taste extra love in these pies, and your smile looked like Ellen's when she told us she cooked for her man that first time. I love you, my love. Thank you all."

After that, I sat eating one-handed Hazel would wipe or kiss away some sauce. I swear we were eating and only had eyes for each other.

Hazel, a few minutes later, asked. "Dan baby, where everybody go?"

We hear laughter on the back pouch; I see they let us have our first meal together.

Hazel asked between our kisses. "For a crappy Thanksgiving, this is pretty amazing. Pretty fucking amazing, baby; how are you going to top this?"

"Just a guess, Hazy, my love; we got what the next eighty years to figure it out and top it," I say, kissing you.

Hazel says. "Baby, we need to kiss our families to say thank you, But I pay money to see you kiss Dad and John."

You laughed till you saw my face. You were falling behind, but my look had you jumping up next to me, your arm now around my waist. "Kiss the ladies first." Hazel laughed.

I kissed the ladies as you did the guys. I kissed John first, then Bob; the woman went nuts, and Hazel beamed.

I say. "Well, folks, Hazel told me I was marrying you guys too, so I figured it was time to seal the deal." Trying hard to keep a straight face.

The laughter in the afternoon sun, Hazel kissing my ear, and her gentle whispers. "He shoots, scores, a three-pointer, baby, and you said you're not good at sports."

The week went faster than our first two weeks by a factor of two. I had a speech therapist at eight am and classes for our General Education Degree for the rest of the day. Hazel would try cooking, but it was fun watching, and Ellen loved watching me eat a few things. I still needed to learn what they were, but I glanced at the recipe. Oh, hell no, I will give cooking classes to all three. I will call Ted for his help.

I have thanked them for cooking, but they can up their skills. So I pulled an all-day study day and ate runny eggs and burnt pie crust, or it was to be a Quiche. Bob called it growing pains, and Jean had it, and Hazel did too, but I ate it and kissed her. Saturday was improving cooking skills day, and I called my jail buddy Ted, and he is coming over time to kick things up a notch.

The sun woke us up, as did Hazel's naked butt rubbing nicely against my morning wood, and it takes a second for you to line us up, but your pussy feels a little dry. I won't enter. My hand takes over, rubbing my hardness on your lips as my kisses melt your neck. You moan as I hear wet and. "Yes, baby. Please, baby, so good you so gentle you make me drip, so fuck us, baby." Hazel says, moaning.

With a few more deep strokes, Hazel tries to talk. "Top baby, please topp, please let me have top."

We change, and now I have both your breast in my hands. As you start rocking, you love a firm feel on them. Then, as I squeeze your nipples, you moan and shutter and lay across me, trying to breathe. I wonder if you have anything left, as my cheerleader girlfriend says. "Wow, man, so fucking good, your turn, but what is this cooking class thing at ten am? You must talk, baby, or Hazy won't let you come happy."

With the threat of her doing what she said, I told all. "I learned more working in a kitchen on a grill as a dishwasher at Woolworth at sixteen, and I burnt everything for a week. I asked the cook at the grill, and he got me started with the basics. I started cooking burnt offerings, Hon; your cooking was edible, mine not so much but tacos from Jack in the box saved me." I say.

I lost my ability to speak, and I came so hard the only words I tried to say were. "Shit, My Love."

Trust me, Hazel knew what I said, but I am sure no one else would understand, and that's fine with me.

Our Mr. Coffee maker made noise, but it made the smell of coffee mixed nicely with our aroma of hot sex. Going downstairs, Bob and John had gotten up at sunrise and said they were going fishing. Ted came at ten am, and he brought a chief's hat.

He says. "The brightest get to wear it, and you can cook a meal at my restaurant."

Hazel has a look on her face, as do the other ladies. I say. "Cool, your jets, ladies. Ted and I already talked. This is for you guys, an Early Wedding present from me. I don't get to wear the hat."

We learned we went over the basics, and from the simple beginnings, we started baking bread, something I had never done before, and desserts, sauteing, braising, basting, sauces, and spices. By noon we ate the ten dishes the ladies made, and there was not one burnt offering to the gods of bad foods, and Ellen won the chiefs hat the boys get home near five pm. Ted watched and gave us tips. We cleaned and striped the fish. We made sushi as an appetizer. Jean made it, roasted fish and leeks soup was Hazel's dish, man talked about tasty, a fried fish and asparagus in garlic butter was mine, and Ellen's dish was Scottish fish custard a fish custard? That seemed weird, but it was good.

We ate like Queens and Kings, fresh fish and new skills. Hazel never burnt another dish after today. Ted asked Ellen to cook at a charity event next week. The money it would raise would go to homeless Veterans. Damn that woman, she looked me dead in the eyes and answered. "If you let Hazel's man give a speech, I do it." Damn it; she was smiling; shit, their all smiling.

The following Monday, in speech class, I kept repeating the same mistake over and over again. Finally, Hazel sees me from the other room. Her look is so loving, and she knows how this makes me feel. I was seven on my first day at school every-time a teacher touched me, I peed on myself; she knew she was there that day in class.

Hazel walks to me asked me to stand your hand on my chest like that first day in my shop. You say. "Say the words to me, baby; say them for us. Sassy, Sauce, Senses. Again, keep saying them move your tongue like this as you kiss me."

In front of the teacher, Mr. Deeds says. He kept saying. "Sassy, Sauce, Sense."

He cleared his throat and said. "Dan, don't think about the words. Instead, think about how your angel made you feel. Stop, take a deep breath, and tell us Dan is Hazel a sassy kisser, are her lips on fire like a hot sauce, and kissing your angel makes you lose your Senses."

I did. I read it back, taking a breath, and I smelled/tasted you again, and I read it back near word perfectly, but ten times it came out, and I stood and flipped a book open and spoke out loud, firmly watching Hazel's face light up. I read a paragraph of something by Shakespeare it was near perfect or at least as I could pull off.

Hazel jumped into my arms, knocking the book out of my hands, and well, I was busy after that. So I carried you up the stairs, and I told you. "Boner baby, you gave me such a boner kissing to learn to speak."

Hazy says. "Blow job study break." I stayed hard after coming, so you did that trick the nurse showed me flipping it with your thumb and forefinger at the base, dropping it like your babies folks caught you sleeping with their Hazel. I smiled just smiled down at you.

Hazy asked. "You remember my crack about us getting caught? Your face was epic."

Finishing up my speech class, I asked Mr. Deeds if he had an hour to kill for a few bucks extra I rolled Ellen to him, and I say. "Hazel and I are starting dinner and working on our math."

We knocked out a two-course meal and fresh seven-grain nut bread. I am tossing it in the oven setting the two timers. "Damn woman, that was a lot of fun, good food, the better company sounds like a winning hand. I grab my large cigar box. Hazel reads the math problems back to me. My fingers work and carve and polish the rings by feel.

You looked amazed at me as you did as you watched my hand's craft rings looking down when I felt right; it looks right. Art is feeling the wax become the ends of my fingers weird, right? A piece becomes whole when it feels the way it looks. My Dad told me I was weird, but he would hand me his pocket knife. I still use it today, ten years later. He would give me a piece of soap to practice on or a scrap of wood. I made all my rings with oddly shaped blades and other tools from things I found at my granddad's farm. Dinner was a big deal; Hazel brought it out and said. "We made this together with love for my favorite people."

Dinner was over, and John looked at me, and I went and got the nylon strap I stitched up for the couples dance, and NASA Velcro was used to tie his feet to Ellen, and a backpack like a harness held her weight up. String of Pearls starts on the record player. The ladies' smiles are brighter than the table lights.

John dances Ellen, my strap taking her weight on his back and shoulders as I step to Hazel, and we dance.

Hazel says as she turns the record over. "One thing came to mind it feels good being held by you." "Day Dreaming" 1941 by Glenn Miller and His Orchestra started.

I say. "Hazel, would you ladies like to go dancing? We never did go dancing?"

Hazel says. "Aunt Ellen remember telling me how sexy it was when your man listened to you and got better to prove his love?"

Ellen nods at us a question on her face but she radiated love.

Hazel says. "Dan, do it please, baby."

I asked. "How about your favorite poem, Aunt Ellen?"

Ellen answered. "Invictus by William Ernest Henley."

I asked. "Do you have a copy for me to read, please?"

John says. "It was by our bedside, Dan. I'll go get it."

I opened the book and read it over twice as I took a deep breath. It was powerful. It moved me. I see why Ellen liked it.

I began; my voice was strong, like I was talking to Hazel. I finished my face felt flush like that day in my shop when an angel walked in.

I heard clapping. "Damn straight. He's ready, baby, your babies ready." Ellen and John both clapped.

Hazel says. "Hold on; my man asked me to go dancing; you fell to the couch dramatically, saying somebody pinches me; my man asked me out dancing."

I pinched my lady in her, well, you know, her ticklish parts as we checked with Bob and Jean triple dates with the soon-to-be in-laws.

To get Hazel into college, we must be married by the end of June and stay in married dorms for the first year. After that we can move off campus, we have four days to sign up for the palace in December, or they will make us split up and live in the singles dorms married or not. The girl's dorms are across campus from the guys. We went with Jean. We looked at what the hell holes the apartments were built in 1947, and by the seventy's, there were well worn out. The room was five hundred square feet, with a walk-in shower for one. A bedroom big enough for two twin beds in the center of the apartments bedroom, a nightstand, and the only light in the room is a mounted light on the wall over the stand it happens to be in the middle of the living room.

A dresser mounted to the wall with two bars going across two walls for the so-called closet sagged without clothes. The living room was a couch, two desks also mounted to the wall, two chairs, and a sofa that folds out for a bed. The Kitchen adds to the living room size. Saying The Kitchen could have been better was an understatement. It had a Murphy apartment combo; it was a two-burner gas stove but only one burner worked.

An oven was large enough for two TV diners, and the sink needed to be bigger to wash plates on top of the massive three-foot-tall fridge/freezer. It had two cabinets above it for dishes. A three-foot table for two is again mounted on the wall with a drop leaf for a third person, but if used as a table, you must bring in the third chair. If someone sits there, you can't open the stove or the huge fridge a whopping 1.7 cubic feet.

Room for two TV diners, two ice trays, and a half pint of ice cream in the freezer section. A quart of milk, butter, and a dozen eggs but only a little more. The place was primarily windows eight in the front, six in the back with no AC. A ceiling fan was on, and the temp in the room with the windows closed was 85 degrees. The apartment bathroom has a pedestal sink, a medicine cabinet, and a cracked mirror. No bathtub with a stand-up shower stall wall-to-wall subway tile. With the drain in the middle of the bathroom floor. The place was up three flights of stairs, but the apartment had a front and back door. On the back, it had a tiny balcony and three flights of stairs down to the fire pit and picnic tables. The mailboxes were mounted on the outside walls of the laundry room with eight washers and four dryers the one building had forty apartments there were five blocks of married dorms. Ten wood and concrete picnic tables were in the courtyard behind each building. They are going to charge us seven hundred for this crap a semester. This will be all ours. We stopped off and paid for the dorm no other choice.

Jean says. "We were fearless to move in; you guys can still come home for laundry and weekend meals, right?"

Hazel says. "The student handbook states that we must live on campus if classes are held. There are classes on Saturday, but Sunday does not list for classes, so it does not say, but fines for not staying in the dorm are twenty-five a day per person. Shit, we can't come home on the weekends and stay over. It says spot checks are reported. Just the holidays that the school is closed."

Driving past a new building, not even a block off campus, is within walking distance to classes. I saw My Dad's friend. I stopped, and we three got out, and he introduced us to the owner. Mr. Stevens shows my plans in his truck to the owner. I found us a place to stay after the first year. It was still being finished; I showed my plans for handy-cap modification.

The owner's wife was in a wheelchair, and we were fixing their house. We have a room rent-free the first year and half off for the next four to six years. Eleven hundred square feet, a large soaking tub, double sinks, and two elevators, one for freight. It has a bigger laundry room with four sets of twelve washers, six dryers, and eighty units on four floors, but it has central air and a two-hundred-foot balcony. It is not furnished, but we looked at the college dorm as having to rough it.

Hazel, later that night, as we lay in bed, we talked like lovers want to do. We discussed what comes next, what fears lie ahead about my Dad, and how or where he was. He blew off a seventy thousand-a-year job; his second house was foreclosed. His second wife took him to the cleaners and left him broke. He was fine the next paycheck; sure, he had bills. It still does not answer why did he ghost me?

Hazel says. "Lots of folks have problems, baby. It's nothing about you. He might still be shell-shocked; war is a meat grinder."

I say. "I feel so bad I don't know about my Mom or where to start looking. But It's been a weight off my soul not having to deal with it."

Hazel's answer was to start kissing me, removing my things, and rubbing my back and shoulders.

Moaning softly, Hazel says. "You with me now, mister. Getting you in bed was hard, but it's so worth it. Now love us, baby. As you stroke my hardness between my legs, not letting me up, I moan as you slip a finger into my ass. I can't take it. I flip over, and my hand slips into your pussy lips. Hold on, I say. "Wait, where is your hair, baby?"

Hazel says, "It's called. I trimmed the wild hairs, and it looked lopsided, and I trimmed it up again, and it was still crooked; please tell me it's OK, Baby, it Will grow back."

"It changed nothing," I say; my lips felt your stubble, and I stopped halfway into a good lick or two.

I say. "Hon, you know the five o'clock shadow thing you're always on me about, well baby, we can shave, but the stubble is going to be hell on wheels for a month on you."

We were forced to finish pleasing each other with our toy. It gave me a heck of a rash when we tried the missionary position. We had to stop, and then I rolled up one of those Joey Joints, and it was all giggles, fun, and games until Hazel got my shave cream and a fresh razor out, and we shaved each other, damn pot don't do drugs, just say no.

I thought it was so cute; we looked like kids, and yes, we took a Polaroid or two of us. But it looked terrible, like we were the worst people in the world.

Then the earth shifted, and my tongue slid your lips apart from your grasp as I moaned. "My god, you feel like silk."

We were not kids anymore, talk about wet fun, and my boy looked taller without my bushy hair.

My goodness, we were twenty-five minutes late the next day for our classes and walked funny like we shaved down there. During the first break, we changed into much loser clothes. Ellen gives us some relief with baby powder. After that, she would look at us, shake her head, and laugh like you had been there before.

Hazel looked at Ellen and me, and we both wanted to know how she knows it was almost 1979. For goodness sake, it's not a thing. So we kept it up for a few days, getting used to it. Hazel never went back.

Getting coffee, we both corner Ellen, and it was. "Tell it, lady, what do you know and why?" Hazel asked, a grin on her face.

Ellen says, OK, babies. "We were in college our second year. We got into a field of bluebonnets and got ticks and chiggers the health department got involved. We were sprayed and defoliated and ended up being shaved all over. It was weeks before we wanted to be seen by our friends again, but over the first week, the itch became, well, you kids know. The sex was great, but John kept talking about robbing the cradle, and we let it grow back."

Ellen says."I am dying to know Why you, oh hell, never mind some of that free love stuff, no?"

Hazel says. "Well, Aunt Ellen, I trimmed my lady parts, and it was lopsided, and well, it turned into stubble. So we smoked some good weed and shaved one thing led to another, and it seems to have pros and cons. The pros were how clean it felt and, well, you know the downside."