Nereids Ch. 03

Finally, he buried himself as deep as he could and felt the first surge of release. He didn't come as much as the first time, but the pulsing sensations went on long after the actual orgasm.

When he finally opened his eyes, he gazed down at her. A welter of emotions—love, anxiety, anticipation, fear, and more—passed between them silently. They didn't talk about Vietnam. They didn't talk about David and Beth. They didn't talk about anything at all.

Not with words, at least.

**

"So there we were," Jack said, sweeping his gaze over his fellow pilots.

Most of them were holding beers, and all of them were grinning from ear to ear. All but David. He simply looked embarrassed. They were at a farewell cookout at Don Scarlatti's house, the families' last chance to get together before the squadron's deployment.

Jack's hands imitated two planes in flight. "We rolled into the bombing pattern right after takeoff," he continued. "You know how quick some of those sorties are," he added, playing to his audience. "Well, David was on my wing, about two hundred yards back."

Several of the men knew what was coming, since they'd been there when it happened, but they still hung on Jack's every word.

"I rolled in hot," he said, his left hand imitating his plane, "and launched a pair rockets. Right on target, I might add."

The others laughed at his boast.

"When I pulled up, I heard David roll in." He imitated the radio call, "'Warhorse Five Two is in hot.' I looked back to see how he did..." A pause to let his listeners' anticipation build: "And the next thing I knew, all hell broke loose."

David hung his head, and several men grinned at his embarrassment. A group of wives were talking by the sliding glass door, and Jack saw Beth look up, anxious for her husband. Susan caught his eye as well, and shot him a look of silent rebuke. He didn't quite ignore her, but he continued his story nonetheless.

"Someone started shouting over the radio," he said.

"That was me," Don Scarlatti said. "I didn't want you to get hit."

"Thanks for looking out for me, Skipper," Jack said, grinning.

"Forget you," Scarlatti said. "Hotshot pilots are a dime a dozen. I didn't want to fill out the paperwork to requisition a new plane."

"Thanks," Jack said dryly, unfazed.

The men around him chuckled.

"So there I was," he continued, his left hand climbing out after the firing run, "when this rocket goes flying under my wing. I'm thinking, 'How in God's name did David miss the ground?!'"

The other pilots howled with laughter.

"You're lucky he didn't kill you," someone called from the back of the crowd.

"Only the good die young, Mr. Schmidt," Frank Waulk said, to catcalls of agreement.

"When I saw the second smoke trail, closer," Jack continued, "I started getting nervous."

"We'll have to ask your crew chief about your missing seat cushion," someone teased.

Jack grinned, but continued. "The next rocket flew over my canopy, not thirty yards away."

"That's when he started shooting at Skipper," another man said.

"I couldn't stop," David finally said, speaking up for the first time since Jack had begun the story. "They were all gonna fire whether I liked it or not, so I pulled my nose away from my leader."

"Yeah, you shoulda gone after the Old Man from the start!"

"I heard that, Jerry," the commander said, pretending to glare at Schmidt. Then Scarlatti grinned as he stepped close and put his arm around David's shoulder. "I thought young Mr. Hughes was going to blow me out of the sky, but I knew he only had a couple of rockets left."

David smiled ruefully.

Scarlatti raised his beer in mock-salute to Frank Waulk. "Only the good die young..."

"Then your time's coming, Skip," Jerry said.

"I'm not that old."

"Then why do we call you the Old Man?" someone else called.

"Respect for your elders," Scarlatti said, a seasoned veteran of pilots' banter. With a self-satisfied grin, he arched an eyebrow at Jack, silently asking to pick up the story.

Skipper's prerogative, Jack thought with only a trace of resentment. He'd been in the Navy long enough to know when to let the Old Man have his due, though, so he smiled and made a by-all-means gesture.

"I dodged the first rocket," Scarlatti said, "but I thought he had me dead to rights with the second."

David looked like he wanted to slink away.

"Fortunately, he got his nose pointed away from me," Scarlatti said, "and the last rocket flew downrange." He grinned. "The Range Control Officer had a few choice words, fit to blister paint, but I managed to smooth things over with him."

"Lucky for you, Hughes!"

David grinned hesitantly.

"So all's well that ends well," Scarlatti said. "But, Mr. Hughes," he added, glancing meaningfully at David, "keep an eye on your fire selector the next time I'm in the vicinity."

The pilots roared with laughter.

When they quieted, Scarlatti continued, playing to the crowd. "I think now would be a good time to officially christen Mr. Hughes with his new callsign."

Jack stifled a laugh. He knew what was coming, along with every other member of the squadron. Jerry Schmidt had coined the new nickname after David's mishap, and it had stuck. David was no longer "Gator." Instead...

"Gentlemen," Scarlatti said, raising his beer, "Mr. Hughes has demonstrated a reckless affection for Zuni rockets. One might even call him a maniac." He grinned impudently. "So from this day forward, he'll be known as..."

Scarlatti let the words hang in the air, glancing at the men around him, the men he'd soon lead into battle. At his nod, the pilots shouted in unison.

"Zuniac!"

David tried to dodge the men teasing him, but there were too many. They clapped him on the back and tousled his close-cropped hair.

Jack smiled to himself. He might've been new to the squadron, but he was an experienced officer who'd demonstrated his abilities in the air and on the ground. But David had been an unknown quantity, a potential weak link. After his near-disaster with the Zuni rockets, he'd redoubled his efforts on the bombing range, and had improved more than any other pilot.

Even more to his credit, he hadn't tried to blame the accident on an equipment malfunction. The other men in the squadron respected that, and grew to like him because of his quiet determination to improve his bombing skills. With the new nickname, David had just become one of them.

One of us, Jack silently corrected. We happy few...

**

"I think it's a nice callsign," Beth said on the drive home.

David tried to glare at her, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Instead, he simply looked sullen.

"It's better than 'Don't Point That Thing At Me,'" she said, hiding a grin.

That got through to him, and he couldn't avoid a rueful grin.

"But I'm the only one who gets to say that," she added in a quiet voice.

It was calculated to pique his interest, and he glanced at her sidelong.

"I don't think I'll ever say it, though." She paused. "After all, I like it when you point that thing at me."

"You wouldn't like it if they were laughing at you," he said, holding on to his sullenness with both hands.

She slid closer to him, worming under his arm and draping it over her shoulder.

"They weren't laughing at you, sweetheart," she said earnestly. "They were laughing with you. You saw how they treated you. You're one of them, as sure as Jack or Jerry Schmidt or even the commander."

He glanced at her, unconvinced.

"Oh, come on, you big sourpuss," she teased. "You know how callsigns work. The more you hate them, the more they stick. You told me that yourself."

"Yeah, but I liked 'Gator,'" he said, his sullenness making a last grab at holding on.

"That's why they gave you a new one," she said matter-of-factly. "Besides, I like Zuniac." He started to speak, but she cut him off. "I didn't mind having a gator in bed with me. But a Zuniac...? Mmm. I like a man who knows how to use his rocket." Her sexy teasing had its effect, and his attitude began to improve.

"After you take the babysitter home," she said when they pulled into the driveway, "you can show me your rocket." With that, she ran her hand along his trousers to his inner thigh. Then she brushed her fingers against his crotch, teasing him.

She was waiting for him when he returned. None of her lingerie fit, so she was wearing one of his uniform shirts. It smelled like him, and she could already feel herself getting wet. She still felt big and awkward, but her arousal grew and she forgot about feeling unattractive. She gestured to him with a crooked finger, smiling as he drew near.

"Is that for me?" she asked coyly, glancing at the bulge of his erection.

He grinned and stepped closer.

She unbuckled his belt, massaging his confined erection as she did. "Mmm, show me your rocket."

He pushed his trousers and underwear down in one motion, his semi-hard dick springing free.

She reached for him, his hips warm under her hands. He shuffled forward and she captured the spongy tip of his dick, inhaling his scent. He groaned softly and put his hands on her head, forcing her closer.

She opened her mouth and took more of him. He grew harder still, her lips tightening as his dick thickened. She sucked gently, the soft skin of his shaft sliding over the harder layer underneath. Then she pulled back until she felt the ridge of his glans, her lips in a tight "O".

She flicked her tongue against the tip of his dick, feeling for the slit and teasing it when she found it. She looked up, her eyes full of love. He smiled at her and brushed the backs of his fingers over her cheek. She let his dick slide from her lips and then kissed the tip, her eyes drooping closed as the kiss drew out. Finally, she looked up at him again.

"Why don't we get comfortable," she suggested.

His eyebrows rose with a silent question.

"I thought I could give you a long, deep blowjob," she said, swallowing at the sudden rush of moisture in her mouth.

"Yeah," he said, almost reverently. Then he almost fell over in his rush to shed his pants and underwear.

Beth stifled a laugh and watched him hurriedly unbutton his shirt. His urgency was comforting.

Her eyes traced the sparse trail of hair leading from his navel to his dick, which bobbed gently with his heartbeat. She swallowed again, salivating at the thought of taking him deep in her throat.

Beth had always enjoyed giving head, but she'd perfected her skills when she was pregnant with Paul. She and David hadn't discovered many positions they could have sex in, but she always enjoyed sitting between his legs and sucking him.

The position had another purpose, which Beth didn't like to admit: it hid her belly from him, and made her look like she wasn't pregnant. David constantly told her how sexy she was, but she didn't always believe it. When she sat between his legs, she felt sexy, because he couldn't see how ungainly she was.

She knew she shouldn't be so self-conscious about her body—pregnancy was natural, after all—but she couldn't help how she felt. When she thought he couldn't see how big she was, she felt better. So her embarrassment had actually worked in her favor, and she'd learned to take his dick all the way down her throat.

At first, she'd simply wanted to swallow more of him (she never imagined she'd be able to take his entire length). But as her first pregnancy progressed, she grew more self-conscious the larger she got. So she wanted to suck him more often than she wanted him to make love to her.

She quickly learned to take all but the last few inches. Those were the hardest, though, since she couldn't breathe with his dick down her throat. But by that time, she was quietly determined to swallow all of him.

David had been amused at first. He knew he was bigger than most men, but when he realized Beth was serious about taking him all the way, he grew more enthusiastic about it.

Finally, she managed to swallow him completely. She vividly remembered his groan as she wrapped her lips around the base of his dick. It had sent a thrill of pleasure through her at the time. She still felt a thrill whenever she took him all the way.

She smiled to herself now and settled between his legs. She sat cross-legged, the most comfortable position with her huge belly. She could sit there for hours, she reflected, licking and sucking his erection. But she knew he wouldn't last. Not the first time, at least.

Even after years of marriage, David still came quickly the first time. He didn't go soft, though, and the second time was always longer and more intense. After she coaxed the first orgasm from his heavy balls, it seemed as though he could go for hours.

She liked sucking him—she felt powerful, in control. And David wasn't so full of machismo that he wanted to dominate their lovemaking. He let her direct things sometimes, although he probably knew where they were going all along.

She smiled to herself and absently teased the tip of his dick, her hands resting on his inner thighs. A quick glance up assured her that he knew exactly what she was up to. She smiled again and opened her mouth, reveling in the sensation as his dick glided along her tongue. She closed her lips and breathed through her nose, the smell of his manhood rich in her nostrils.

After several minutes of teasing, she began sucking in earnest, taking more of him into her mouth on each downstroke. He entered the back of her mouth, thick and hard and hot. She felt the pressure on the walls of her throat, her cheeks and lips tight as she stretched to accommodate him.

She stopped breathing—she couldn't breathe with him filling her throat—and forced herself down. When her vision grew dim and she started to see stars, she pulled back, fighting the urge to gasp. His shaft gleamed, shiny with her saliva. She swallowed hard and took a deep breath.

When she went down again, she slid her lips along his shaft, her tongue caressing the underside ridge. Her mouth was full, taut around his invading shaft, the bulbous head pressing against her throat. She held her breath and plunged down, inch by inch.

She paused for a moment, her lips wrapped around the base of his shaft. Before her air ran out, she opened her mouth and slowly forced her head down. Her throat felt full and tight, tingling with the sensation. She shivered with a rush of excitement when her nose pressed into him, his wiry pubic hair crushed against her cheeks, his balls warm on her chin.

She sucked gently and felt her eyes water. She couldn't breathe, but she mastered her panic and sucked again. He rewarded her with a grunt of pleasure. She sucked as long as she could, her throat full, her mouth working gently.

Finally, with spots before her eyes, she pulled back. She tried not to rush, but the urge to breathe almost overwhelmed her. After what seemed like an eternity, she let his dick slip from her lips. She panted for a moment, gulping air.

Then she kissed the tip of his dick and used it to spread saliva over her lips and chin. He liked to watch her play with him, and she made a show of things. Then she closed her eyes and opened her mouth, ready to swallow him again. This time was easier, since her throat had already stretched to accommodate him before.

He groaned when she wrapped her lips around the base of his shaft. He rested his hands on her head, his touch light. He knew better than to try and force her, and she smiled at his restraint. Once again, she held her breath as long as she could, coming up for air only after her vision grew dim.

At that point she lost track of time. She could feel the molten wetness between her own legs, but she ignored it and concentrated on giving David what he wanted. Her head slowly rose and fell as she fellated him, his dick filling her mouth and throat on each downward plunge.

"Oh, God," he groaned at last.

With a guilty blush, she realized that she'd been in her own world, lost in the pleasure of sucking his dick. She smelled his semen a moment before she felt the heat in the back of her throat. She pulled back just in time, and managed not to choke as the second gush flooded her mouth.

Salty-bitter hotness washed over her tongue, filling her nostrils with the smell as it filled her mouth with the taste. She swallowed, the hot liquid soothing her raw throat. A detached part of her realized that she'd have a sore throat in the morning, but she didn't care. At the moment, the only thing she cared about was pumping David's dick, urging the last drop from his balls as he groaned incoherently.

When he finally finished spurting, she pulled back, her lips taut lest she lose any of his semen. She swallowed, the taste changing from salty to almost-sweet as the white liquid rolled over her tongue. She swallowed again and licked her lips, tasting more of him.

"Oh, baby," he groaned, "that was fantastic."

She smiled to herself and kissed the tip of his dick. He jerked as the sensation overloaded his senses, so she kissed down his shaft toward his balls. She sucked them for a moment, coaxing them from close to his body. She could feel the warm wetness of his dick resting against her cheek. The scent of him filled her nose, thick and heavy and masculine.

"I want to eat you," he said from above her, and she fought not to jerk upright in shock.

"I'm fine," she protested. She was still self-conscious about her pussy, especially since she couldn't even see it anymore without the help of a mirror.

"Sit up here," he said, undeterred. He stood before she could react, his erection bobbing gently as he gazed down at her.

He helped her stand and then turned her. When she felt the gentle pressure at the back of her knees, she sat down heavily. She tried to protest again but he silenced her with a look. Then he knelt between her legs, his erection bumping her thigh as he did.

A moment later he kissed her, careful to avoid putting too much pressure on her belly. He ran his hands along her sides, sending jolts of electricity through her. She could protest all she liked, she thought, but her body knew what it wanted.

David kissed his way down her jaw, making her gasp with pleasure at his light touch. She gasped again when his lips brushed over her neck, and she felt her pulse flutter at the sensation. Lower and lower, until he kissed her nipples, nipping and biting gently. They hadn't been very sensitive since Paul was born, but David's touch was deft and sure—strong enough, but not so strong that pain marred the pleasure.

After a moment he kissed her belly, his hands cupping it, her distended belly-button a true button, long-since pushed out. Her breathing grew erratic in anticipation, and soon enough, she felt his shoulders between her legs.

She stifled a frustrated moan when he began kissing her inner thighs instead of her pussy. She tried to move her hips, but he held her in place. She wanted him to kiss her pussy. Her lips—wet and hot with arousal—slid against each other as she squirmed.

She tried to guide his movements, but he was teasing her. She cried out softly in frustration as his kisses passed over her labia once again. Then she inhaled sharply as he kissed the junction of her thigh and her body. She quivered and swallowed hard, her chest heaving.

Her clit practically throbbed with pent-up need, but David avoided it. Instead, he kissed everywhere but where she wanted him to. She was just about ready to reach down and play with herself when—

She arched her back and clamped her eyes shut.

David continued sucking her clit, his lips tight and warm and buzzing. She panted from the force of an almost palpable wave of ecstasy. Pleasure surged through her again as his tongue flicked against the sensitive little bead.