The Time of My Life

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Vietnam vet meets sisters while hitchhiking.
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rgjohn
rgjohn
11,546 Followers

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Chapter 1

After all these years, I can finally look back on 1968 and 1969 with nostalgia. It was a time that changed my life forever. I was just out of the Army, confused and lonely, hitchhiking my way across the country. (Those were the days when hitchhiking wasn't suicide, when someone would still pick you up just to be a good neighbor.) I was barely 21 but already an old man; twenty-two months of combat in Vietnam had a way of aging one long before their time.

I had spent two tours in Vietnam; re-enlisting after my first tour because when I arrived home on leave I hardly recognized the world that I had left just 12 months earlier.

It was the era of the Martin Luther King and Bobby Kennedy assassinations, the Chicago Seven trials and race riots in the streets. It was a time of tremendous change in America. The world had gone crazy, stark raving mad. In fact, I felt more at home in the jungles of Vietnam than I did on the streets of my own neighborhood. I guess, in truth, I missed the camaraderie and the true friendships that were forged by the incredible life and death struggle of combat. I probably would have re-enlisted for a third tour had I not been hit in the leg by a sniper's bullet, taking a piece of my thigh bone with it.

In those months of combat, I had seen things that no young man should ever have to see. The death, destruction and sheer terror of war leaves a lasting impression on anyone, especially a teenager still "wet behind the ears." Nevertheless, in many ways it was a rewarding experience, forcing a confused 19-year-old kid to become a man and look at the world in a different light.

When I arrived home after my second tour, my family said that they didn't recognize me and that I had changed. They were right. I acted different, I even looked different; my normally brown hair was bleached sandy blond from the relentless tropical sun, my bright blue eyes had that "thousand yard stare" and I had lost weight.

That jagged hole where the bullet had passed through my thigh was the only physical scar that I had. However, mental scars were another matter altogether. The stress of combat leaves demons that I now know can be controlled but never conquered.

There have been far too many nights during the past years where I would wake up screaming, faces of the dead and dying flashing in my mind. Any delusions of the glory of war died with four of my buddies that day on the side of a nameless hill, in the middle of nowhere. There are times to this day that I can still hear their screams, smell the odor of cordite in the air and hear the screeching of artillery shells passing overhead.

As soon as I arrived back in the States, I wanted to put it all behind me, to try to forget those faces and to find myself, to exorcise my demons. I immediately knew that I would not be able to do it at home. My family could not possibly understand. They wanted me to act the same, and just take up where I left off, to just be "me" again. However, that happy carefree teenager was gone forever. They could never understand that.

My friends all seemed so immature, worrying about cars, girls, and parties. Whenever the subject of the war came up and they would express their uninformed views, I felt like hitting them. Then, when I almost hit my best friend, my anger flaring in an almost murderous frenzy, I knew that I have to get away.

Even my former girlfriends seemed so silly. When I tried to re-establish that incredible sexual tension that was there before I left for the Army I found boredom. Maybe my expectations had changed and I expected too much. On the other hand, maybe I just needed more maturity--sex and someone to talk to about the important things in life.

The truth was that my family and friends hadn't changed; I had. So there I stood on that lonely stretch of highway, the cold September wind blowing the pouring rain sideways. I stood with my back to the wind; my thumb stuck out at the passing cars, my green duffel bag at my feet, water forming a puddle on the canvas. The wetness had begun to soak through my Army field jacket; the dark area where my buck sergeant stripes had been was barely visible on the sleeves. The hood over my head was no longer preventing the cold rain from running down my back.

For the millionth time I asked myself, what the hell am I doing here on this endless stretch of highway?

Car after car passed me by. Several times, I saw brake lights but then the cars would speed off before I could reach them.

Finally, I saw one slow then pull off the road to the emergency lane. I grabbed my bag and moved as fast as I could on my bad left leg. The blowing wind pushed my hood back and rain ran down my face, blurring my vision. I was desperately hoping the car wouldn't pull away at the last minute like so many had done before.

"Need a lift?" a pretty, young woman asked as she rolled down the window.

"God yes," I answered, quickly opening the back door and throwing my bag on the floor then jumping in. "Thanks for stopping," I said sincerely, using my hands to wipe the rain from my face.

"I'm Sandy and this is my sister Jessica," the driver said, motioning to a sullen teenager on the passenger side of the car. She didn't turn to greet me so I assumed that she didn't much like the idea of her sister picking up a stranger.

"Pleased to meet you, I'm Gary," I said.

"That's Justin beside you," Sandy said.

I turned and was surprised to see a two or three year old boy sitting in the seat next to me. I was surprised that I had missed him because my powers of observation were normally very keen from months of searching the jungle for the enemy. Those same powers had kept me alive many times in dangerous situations. Then I had to tell myself that those skills didn't mean anything anymore, they weren't needed on the streets; that was the past.

"Hi Justin," I said and reached over to tickle the bright eyed little boy. I liked kids; most of the time better than adults. I liked their innocence, their honesty, and their ability to see things without years of accumulated bias.

I looked back at the two women in the front seat. Jessica looked to be about eighteen or so with reddish hair falling straight down her back. Sandy was older; maybe twenty-two or three with dirty blond hair, curling over her shoulders. Both of them looked like those fresh faced, all-American, girls I had missed so much during the past two years.

"Where you going?" Sandy asked, keeping her head turned forward but looking in the mirror at me.

I could see her pretty eyes and freckles across her nose. "Across the country...wherever the road leads me," I answered in a much more cavalier tone than I really felt.

"We're heading home to San Francisco. You can ride as far as you want with us," Sandy said.

"That's great, thank you!" I said, happy to be out of the pouring rain and inside this dry, sweet smelling car.

Jessica turned and glared at her sister, her lips tight in anger.

"May I ask why you stopped to pick me up?" I said, my curiosity getting the better of me.

"You're a soldier right...or at least were?"

"Yes, I just got out two weeks ago; a free man," I answered, trying to sound light and cheery, but most likely failing.

"My husband was a soldier too. He died in Vietnam several months ago. Jessica, Justin and I are going home now," Sandy said, her voice sad, almost choking with emotions.

"I'm sorry. I saw too many good friends die there," I answered before I thought.

"You were in Vietnam?" she asked excitedly.

"Yea, in my other life," I answered, and then added quickly, "Do you think this rain is ever going to stop?" I wanted to change the subject.

"Probably by the time we reach California...that's only 2000 miles away," Sandy said lightly, sensing my discomfort.

I liked Sandy immediately; her sister was another story.

Sandy and I talked for several hours, sharing stories and laughing. For some reason I found that I could talk to her, we seemed to share many of the same views on life. She had been through a life changing experience, having to grow up very quickly, just like me.

Jessica sat stoically, grunting occasionally when she heard a comment that she didn't agree with.

I found out that Sandy had been married for three years. Her husband was a helicopter pilot and had been shot down near the Cambodian/Laotian border. It had taken several months to retrieve the bodies and his helicopter. His body had finally been sent home and he was buried last week. The family had flown to Virginia for the funeral and Jessica was driving back home with Sandy and Justin. Sandy's belongings were somewhere between California and Virginia in a moving van.

"I think it's time we stopped for the night, I can't feel my legs anymore," Sandy said with a moan.

We pulled into a cheap looking motel with a flashing vacancy sign. There was a diner next to the motel and it was dinnertime. I hadn't eaten at all that day.

The rain had let up some when Sandy parked the car and we got out.

I looked at the dilapidated metal building that housed the diner. "I hope we don't get food pois..." I started to say and stopped in mid-sentence when I saw the full view of Sandy. My shock was obvious.

"You've been in the jungle a long time huh?" Sandy said with a sweet smile when she saw my eyes moving up and down her body.

She had on a white blouse and the shortest skirt I had ever seen in my life. The mini skirt had just come into fashion when I went into the Army, thanks to pantyhose. I hadn't seen any of these new short skirts close up. However, Sandy wasn't wearing pantyhose and her legs looked tanned, firm, and very very long.

"I...uh...well...yea...uh...I'm sorry," I stuttered, my face turning red.

"It's all right, that's why we wear these things," Sandy said, trying to ease my embarrassment. "I don't generally dress this way to travel. Although it does give me a lot of freedom when the skirt pulls practically up to my butt when I sit," she said laughing. "We stopped to see my Aunt earlier today and she insisted that we go to church before we left. I wanted to get out of there so bad that I didn't even want to stop to change," she laughed. "My aunt's not that bad but Uncle Harry is a lecher. Unfortunately, I didn't really bring any church type clothes for the trip back so I had to borrow these from Jessica. Almost everything else is in the moving van. I guess I'm a little taller than my sister huh?" she said as she reached to tug the skirt down to cover more of her thighs.

"No...uh...no, it looks fine," I stammered. God, I hadn't been this tongue tied talking to a girl since I was sixteen.

However, I wasn't flustered enough to miss the fact that she was braless under her blouse. I could see her nipples poking through the thin material and her breasts bounce freely as she laughed. (The late 60's were the beginning of the era where very few young women wore bras. Now those were "the good old days.")

"Come on Sandy, Justin's hungry," Jessica said in irritation as she stood waiting on the steps of the diner. She was wearing a pair of tight hip hugging, bell-bottom jeans with flowers sewn on the legs. Her blouse covered what appeared to be substantial (braless) breasts but left her midriff bare. The blouse had long puffy sleeves. She looked like the typical hippie or "flower child" as we called them later.

I got a great view of Sandy's legs, almost to her buttocks as she walked up the steps to the restaurant. My shame at being a "lecher" was overcome by my own long suppressed sexual longings. I could feel my lower region begin to tingle and pulse with a life of it's own. It had been a long time.

Chapter 2

We had a pleasant dinner with Sandy and I doing all the talking. Jessica was still sulking, her anger at her sister obvious.

Justin seemed to be a great little guy. He sat across from me laughing and giggling; Jessica sat next to me, keeping as much room as possible between us.

I started to shoot little pieces of paper with my straw at Justin, making him giggle louder. I often played these games with my little brothers and sisters. Because I was the oldest of six kids, with two brothers and three sisters, I spent a great deal of time helping my mother after my father died in a car accident when I was fourteen. The fact was, I could have gotten out of the draft because I was the "breadwinner of the family"; however, I was looking for adventure and wanted to do my "patriotic" duty.

When we finished dinner, I insisted on paying. I had a little bit of money that I had saved in the Army. Even though I needed to conserve it because I was not sure when or if I wanted to find a job, I still felt obligated to pay something for the ride.

As Jessica and I waited by the car, Sandy went into the motel and got a room. When she came back out she looked at me and said, "The room is real small but you can sleep on the floor if you want."

"Sandy!" Jessica practically screamed.

I looked over at Jessica then back at Sandy and said, "That's okay, I'll just sack out in the back of your car if that's alright with you? I've slept in far worse places."

"Well, suit yourself, the offer stands, regardless of my rude sister," Sandy said glaring at Jessica.

We drove around to the back of the building and parked in front of the door to the room.

"You can come in after we take our showers and get cleaned up if you want. I'll let you know when we're done."

"Thanks."

About an hour later, I saw Sandy standing in the doorway with a towel wrapped around her waving me into the room. I grabbed my shaving kit and a towel and hurried into the room, trying not to limp.

I saw Sandy look at me with what could have been sadness or maybe pity. Then she caught herself and smiled. "Good, you have a towel. I was afraid I was going to have to let you have mine," she said with a sexy smile as she held her towel around her otherwise naked body.

"If I had known that, I would have left mine in the car," I answered, smiling as I hurried into the bathroom past a scowling Jessica, playing with Justin on the bed.

It had been several days since I had had a shower and the hot water felt great. It felt wonderful to be clean again. Not too long ago I would go for months without the benefit of a shower. At the time, that never bothered me because everyone else smelled just as bad.

As I shaved I looked around the bathroom and almost felt at home. With three sisters, the bathroom was always a wreck, clothes, hair curlers, and wet towels all over the place. I felt a little pang of homesickness but put it aside.

I dried my face and packed up my shaving kit. As I started to leave, I noticed a pair of panties lying in the corner on the floor. I impulsively reached down, picked up the panties, and quickly stuffed them into my shaving kit. Then I hesitated, feeling guilty, but not guilty enough to put them back.

When I walked out of the bathroom, I saw Sandy sitting on the bed, still in her towel, rubbing cream on her legs. I didn't mean to stare but I couldn't help it. The towel barely covered her legs. I thought I could see a wisp of pubic hair as she worked to smooth the cream on her thighs. My face turned scarlet when she looked up and smiled at me, seemingly unconcerned that I could see between her legs.

"Uh...thanks, good night," I stammered, that tingling feeling starting in the lower region again. I rushed out of the room and through the pouring rain to the car.

It only took me a few minutes to get situated on the back seat, my blanket over me, and my throbbing erection in my hand. I wished that I had some of that skin cream right now I thought as I began to move my hand up and down the shaft.

In my mind, I could still see Sandy's smooth cream covered thighs and that dark area just above. I sighed to myself and moved my hand faster. Then I remembered the panties. I reached down to the floor and pulled them out of my shaving kit. I brought the soft material to my nose and inhaled the sweet fragrance of a woman. It brought back so many memories and made my erection pulse with need. I didn't know if the panties belonged to Sandy or not but I pretended that they did. It wouldn't have mattered if they belonged to Jessica; she was a sexy girl as well, regardless of her demeanor. As my excitement grew, I wrapped the panties around my erection and used the silky material to masturbate.

My hips were moving up and down slowly, forcing my penis in and out of the panties when suddenly I heard a tap on the window. Startled, I opened my eyes to see Sandy, looking in the window at me. I didn't have time to put my shrinking penis back in my pants so I kept the blanket over my waist and reached over to unlock the door for her to get in out of the rain. As she slid in, I saw that she had a jacket wrapped around a nightshirt, which came to mid-thigh; her legs and feet were bare.

"I'm sorry to bother you but I though you might talk to me for a little while."

"Uh...yea, sure...I uh would love to," I said nervously as I saw her short nightshirt pull up her thighs to reveal those sexy legs and the shadowy area between. Again, I thought I could see pubic hair. A little shiver ran through me as I realized that she didn't have panties on.

Almost immediately, the back of the car was filled with the sweet smell of scented soap and shampoo. It was a wonderful clean and fresh smell after so many months of nothing but the pungent smell of rotting jungle vegetation. Her smell was almost intoxicating, making my head spin.

Sandy curled up on the seat with her bare legs under her and sat back, a serious look on her face. "Can you tell me about what it was like over there? I want to know what my husband...Rick...went through before he di...he crashed."

I sighed and rubbed my eyes, trying to think of a way to gently tell her that I didn't want to talk about this. Yet, as I looked at her tearing eyes I knew that she needed something, needed to feel a connection with her lost mate. So, I began to talk, telling her some of the details but keeping much of the horror and pain from her. I'm sure his situation was very different from mine as a helicopter pilot. It was certainly no less dangerous than the infantry but it was different.

I was surprised at how easy it was to tell her things that I had told no one else. I told her of the loneliness, of the friends that I had lost and of the sheer terror of combat. All of the things that are universal to every soldier.

After a while, she began to cry. I wasn't sure what to do so I reached out and pulled her close to me. I wanted to cry too but there were no tears.

Sandy pulled back and looked into my eyes as the tears streamed down her cheeks. Suddenly, our lips were pressed together in a gentle kiss that gradually became more passionate. I moaned when her tongue slid into my mouth to duel with my own tongue. The windows of the car quickly began to steam up as our passion grew. I was desperate to go further but hesitated, not wanting to take advantage of her delicate emotional state. Then she solved that problem when she reached over, almost in frustration, and pulled my hand to her thigh.

I moaned as my hand caressed the smooth and warm skin of her thigh. Hoping that I had a green light, my hand moved higher hesitantly; still unsure until I felt her move her legs apart giving me access to the warm area between her legs.

rgjohn
rgjohn
11,546 Followers