Jalapeno Ch. 01

A Work of Fiction

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The fictional folk in this fictional tale are all at least eighteen fictional years of age, especially the ones from the fictional hamlet of Jalapeno, Texas.

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Sky

I loved every single thing about going down on, and eating Sky. Having her lovely toned muscular legs on my shoulders keeping my thirty-nine-year-old ears warm on a moon-lit eastern Missouri evening. Her slim graceful fingers in my hair pushing me into her. The beauty of her bright pink eighteen year old pussy against her dark skin, the taste of her body. Her sweet savory aroma. The tight little curls of her jet black pubic hair.

She was moaning and making what I like to call "happy sex sounds." The tips of my thumbs were holding her labia apart and I was rapidly licking the space in between when she came hard. Squirting even more of her lovely essence onto my nose and my cheeks. She shrieked as she came. What a wonderful sound, ecstasy.

"Oh, oh, oh..." she said, coming back to earth.

"I love you Sky," I said.

"That was wonderful Luke," she said.

I kissed her mons.

"That was... Great..." she said, " It's just such a shame that you can't fuck me."

"You know if I had a dick," I said wiping her wondrous lubricant onto my hand from my face , "I probably would be more interested in getting it wet. Doing the ole in-and-out. Where would that leave you?"

I pushed two fingers into the hot pink of her vaginal opening and lapped at the folds and engorged glans above them. She started to pant, I would have to wait for an answer. I worked the two digits hard for a while, and then added a third.

Sky's tight little butt was spending more time off of the 320 thread count cotton than on it. Her hips were twisting and turning and she exploded in orgasm again as I finger fucked her while nibbling on her outer labia. Again I was rewarded with a copious amount of her juice,

"It's just... Having it blown off," she said. "I couldn't imagine..."

"'War, huh, yeah; What is it good for;'" I said trying and failing miserably to imitate Edwin Starr's deep bass voice, "'Absolutely nothing; say it again, y'all...'"

"That's OK," I thought, "she doesn't even know who Edwin Starr is. This old white guy will have to teach you."

"Are you happy?" I asked her.

"Ecstatic," she said.

"Then I am happy," I said gently kissing her mons again.

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Webster Groves - Missouri - May 1985

As I laid in the bed next to Skyler, I was looking at her beautiful athletic form next to me. Thinking about how lucky we both were right now. Looking through the window at the full moon, in its beauty, I thought about the pain that we had both endured in our lives before. I thought that we were quite silly human animals. We can fool ourselves, but we cannot fool God.

God, Mother Nature, the Universe, Kismet, call it what you want. I say God. I had been warned. I had been a petulant child who chose not to hear my eternal parent's warning. I was lucky. Rodney my Crew Chief kept me from bleeding to death; I was unlucky, a well aimed rocket had shredded the plexiglass and aluminum structure of my Huey, and not so neatly made me a eunuch.

How many times had I heard growing up that line from Genesis, "thou doth not murder." But that is exactly what I did flying my little Loach. That was my finger on the button firing all of those bullets. How many times had I heard our Pastor quote Matthew, "happy the peacemakers - because they shall be called Sons of God..." But I did not make peace; I survived two crashes on my first tour. I chose to go back for a second; that calls my judgement into question.

Jesus had said, "Do not suppose I came to throw down the law... I came to fulfill it..." I ignored Christ himself. "Whoever may kill shall be in danger of the judgement." I flew the prescribed approach to hill 906, my door gunners peppered the sides of the hill with their machine guns. But I got hit in the process. As a result I spent half a year in hell, the Dallas Veterans Hospital. Ninety-five degrees and no air conditioning. But it could have been worse.

There are those who attribute everything in life to random chance. They may be right; I cannot prove that my God exists. That is why they call it faith or a belief system. But I had been warned; just as if I had been warned not to walk under a ladder because a paint can might fall. I did; it did.

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West of Khe Sanh - Republic of Vietnam - February 1971

We wore big blue fur felt Cavalry hats with yellow acorn bands and a pair of crossed brass sabres on the front. Our olive green fire retardant flight suits had huge flashy yellow shields with a diagonal black bar and a horse head in profile. Our olive green Bell UH-1 Huey had been manufactured back home in Texas. Either in Fort Worth, just east of Fort Wolters where I learned to fly a helicopter, or in Amarillo two and a half hours north of Jalapeno.

The Marine base just outside this, the provincial capital of Quang Tri, had been besieged by the NVA for three months three years earlier. Supplied by air and eventually relieved by ground forces, the base was dismantled once relieved. Then with a policy shift it was reinvested. Now we were flying ARVNs, soldiers of the Army of the Republic of Vietnam, and their U. S. Army companions into... Well into...

"Gene," I said, to my Co-pilot flying in the left seat. A holdover from the early days of rotary-wing fight when there was but one collective lever in the middle.

"Did you hear the President on the radio?" I said.

"Last night?"

"Yeah, what did he say about Laos?" I said.

"You mean about there not being any American troops in Laos?" he said.

"Uh huh," I said, "that one."

"Why?" He asked.

"Well I need a better map," I said, "this one says we are in Laos."

"Nahhh..."

It was a group exercise in who could be the most ridiculous. The Russians put North Vietnamese insignia on their planes and on their pilot's flight suits. We said we were not bombing Cambodia or sending troops into Laos in spite of what my map said. But it made perfect tactical sense to do so; that being exactly where the NVA were. Our leaders said our military objective was to degrade, not to kill. Deniable plausibility, plausible deniability, commutative property, a*b is b*a...

The UH-1 was four times as big and five times as heavy as the OH-6 I flew on my first tour. I was alone on the Loach, the Huey had a crew of three sometimes four. Our mission that day was to fly eight ARVNs and a couple Special Forces guys to the military crest of hill 906. The topographical maps we used showed all the hills with a triangle symbol and their elevation; the military crest was the highest point on a terrain feature that you can occupy without silhouetting yourself.

Protocol was to first fly over the designated LZ, landing zone. The door gunners would shoot up the area alongside; after you flew over the LZ you would do a hard pedal turn with torque and fly back into the LZ. Just briefly touch the ground, the troops would all jump out, and you would pull up and fly out. The door gunners could then lay down suppressive fire if needed.

As we pulled up and out of the LZ that day we were hit by something big, probably a RPG, rocket propelled grenade. It shredded the plexiglass and the instrument panel in front of me. I was sitting in an armored seat, that was the first thing that saved my life.

Gene started screaming to Rodney as he flew the shattered aircraft away from the incoming fire. Rodney stopped shooting and climbed over the seats to get to me. I had pulled the compress out of the first aid kit behind my right shoulder and was holding it to my bleeding crotch. Rodney grabbed the other first aid kit held its compress on me. I passed out. Gene and Rodney's quick actions were the next two reasons I am alive today.

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Paulette - One

Dallas Texas - November 1971

I met Paulette on the grounds of a hospital in Dallas, I was recovering from plastic surgery and was supposed to be walking around as much as possible. She had been in a psych ward, literally. She was beautiful, pale, bleach blonde hair, brown eyes and under her summer dress she was covered with red whip marks.

Her parents had tried to have her committed, but she had just turned twenty-one and they were only able to get her evaluated. The doctors had agreed that she had a psychological illness. But they decided it was not severe enough to warrant involuntary commitment.

I had never known a woman with tattoos before, and Paulette had several, a grim reaper on her left shoulder, a madonna and child counterbalancing it on her right, and a Celtic knot design in the small of her back. We had coffee together a couple times. She was the first, maybe the only, person I met who was intrigued by rather than repulsed or dumbstruck by the nature of my injury.

Our first sex together was different from anything I had ever experienced. She took off her long slinky dress, and naked but for the stiletto heels she constantly wore, bent over a bed. In order to have me cane her thighs and legs with this thin little rod that made a wicked sound as it moved through the air.

After I beat her legs, thighs and buttocks she laid upon the bed spread her legs and held her cunt lips open so that I could deliver blows directly to the creases of her cunt. That was her term, I was being a "little pussy" if I didn't call it her "cunt."

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Paulette - Four

Jalapeno Texas - October 1973

I had misgivings about going with Paulette back to Dallas, but I went anyway. I have a habit of doing that sorta thing. Laura and I were doing this little dance together; we had six wonderful months together as a couple years before. But we decided that we were not the "ones for each other," well she decided. I went along but since that day I had always wanted more.

We got together romantically after that decision several times before my injury. I spent some time just talking with her after I got out of the hospital. It hurt that she didn't come to see me in Dallas. Mom came twice and drug dad with her, four visitors in six months. I guess they did not know how to handle it. My little brother has never once brought the subject up.

Laura told me once she felt guilty because if she had not broken it off with me when I went away to A&M I would have had a reason to stay in Jalapeno. That I might not have gone off to Vietnam in the first place. I am not sure that I would have been given a choice about that. But when I did have a choice I went back.

She didn't care for Paulette. She saw Paulette as being self-destructive whereas I saw her as being oblivious to the consequences of her more extreme behavior. I sought to help Paulette do what she needed to do safely rather than try to change her. I thought I could make a difference. Naive huh, that was probably part of the reason I went to Vietnam.

At least just trying to save one person was a more modest goal. I felt that without me Paulette might possibly self destruct. Laura was right, it was fed by my feeling of powerlessness. "Silent self aggrandizement," could be... But Laura was also wrong, we should have been together instead. Maybe I stayed with Paulette in a vain hope Laura would see that too. I suck at manipulation.

But being in a relationship with Paulette had some advantages. It got me out of my self-pity and I once again wanted more out of life. I quit managing the pizza joint, and I started flying the ranch's Cessna 140 again. I loved flying. Flying Hueys didn't hurt me, getting shot hurt me. I could get shot anywhere, especially anywhere there was a war going on. Nobody's perfect, and Paulette might have been crazy, but she kicked my butt and got it off the couch. Being with her made me want to do things. Including stupid things like going to Dallas with her.

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Paulette - Thirty

Ann Arbor - Michigan - July 1984

I helped Paulette move into the little apartment overlooking the Huron River. It was a weird feeling, letting go. I had asked her to come to Missouri with me, she may have been correct in declining, but I still had feelings for her. Not the way I had feelings for Laura, maybe that was because I understood Laura. I believed that Laura and I would be together again, perhaps when her children were in college, perhaps when we were seventy and sixty-eight, but sometime.

I loved Paulette and I protected her. Even as I pierced her flesh with needles and whipped her with the cane, I protected her. I understood that she needed pain in the same way that she needed oxygen and water. I made sure scenes were well planned and sanitary. I thought she had learned how to protect herself. To do crazy insane things in sane ways and to use good judgement. I hoped so. It wasn't really my place to tell her how to live, but I loved her still.

We had been more or less together for a dozen years. That last night together we made love in the same way we had since we began. I had her stand before me in the sleeveless dress she had been wearing. I removed it and she was naked but for her stilettos. I examined her prominent nipple and cunt rings then I cuffed her hands and placed a ball gag in her mouth using the strap to hold her long hair out of her face.

I hooked the cuffs to a rope from the ceiling, adjusting the length so that she was immobile. I lubricated two inflatable rubber plugs and pushed one into her vagina and the other into her anus before pumping them up a little to hold them firmly in place. Then I proceeded to whip her waist and her butt and her breasts with a braided leather whip.

Once she had acquired a nice red color I untied her and led her to the bed. I deflated and pulled the plug from her cunt. Her cream was everywhere, I used it to lubricate my fingers pushing four and then my whole hand inside of her. She had a lovely smell, I enjoyed her taste but I resisted knowing what a turn off it was for her. She saw that as softness, a mood killer.

That was the problem, she needed it her way all of the time. I was OK with giving her hard and painful as long as it was sustainable. But humans are complex, I wanted soft as well. It could even play into her needs, why not mix hard and soft together so you never know what is coming next. A pointless question...

I increased the tempo of my fist as it plunged into and out of her sloppy creamy cunt churning her lubricant into a froth until she convulsed in her first orgasm. Instead of slowing down I sped up until a second stronger one arrived. Finally she was screaming as I was literally punch fucking her, and she came again with a massive shudder before bringing both of her hands down together to wordlessly stop me.

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