I had known the Cruickshank family for what seemed like an eternity. Evan Cruickshank and I had served in the army together when we were younger, in the same engineering unit. I didn't know him as Evan, though. In typical military fashion, we only ever referred to each other by our nicknames, and his was Ding. Like all nicknames, his was well and truly earned.
At the doorway to the entrance of our commanding officer's office, was a bell; a throw-back to the Second World War when it was used by the unit's communications officer to warn of imminent air attacks when the unit was based in Northern Africa. It now hung precariously close to the doorway and if you didn't take care, you could smack your head into it as you exited the office. Ding hadn't taken care and had hit his head with it on three separate occasions in one day, hence his nickname. The poor guy copped it by the dozen after that. Whenever anyone saw him exit the office, they would shout out 'DING!' as loud as they could across the yard. Everyone within earshot would then join in as well with a shout of 'DING!' Of course I joined in the fun too. The jibes only lasted as long as his bruise was still showing, but the nickname stuck for life.
We were good mates and used to hang out quite a bit. We'd hit the town and chase girls like dogs chasing cars - all expectation and no result. Well, most of the time anyway. We still managed to snag a few every now and then, but most of the girls we found around the base were either not interested in us army guys or were absolutely gagging to marry one. As a 19 year old, marriage was the last thing on my mind. I just wanted to get laid. So our weekly ritual of hitting the bar on base for the cheap drinks and then heading out into town continued for many, many months into outrposting. Then things changed when Ding met Delilah.
He had gone back to his home town one weekend to visit his parents, having not seen them in almost a year. They had put on a big barbeque to welcome him back home and had invited a lot of their friends. Delilah was there. She was back home visiting her parents too, who were friends of his parents. She too was living not far from our base and despite being quite hesitant to date an army boy, she had agreed to go out to dinner with him. Ding put on his cleanest shirt and charmed her for all it was worth.
Evidently it must've worked because less than 6 months later, they were married. At 21 I thought it was still a little young for them to get tied down, but they seemed very much in love with one another.
Their son Jacob was born less that 12 months after that and their daughter Anna followed about a year later. Things had fallen into place for him quite well. He was happier than I'd ever seen him, and I was happy for him. He ought to have been happy too; Delilah was an amazing woman.
She was smart, funny, sociable, and very attractive. Her Mediterranean heritage had blessed her with flawless olive skin, and her devotion to fitness had blessed her with a spectacular physique. Whilst not exceptionally large, her pert breasts were tastefully disproportionate with her petite 5'5" frame. She often wore her hair down allowing the soft waves of black to frame her face and pert breasts.
She had apparently studied ballet as an extracurricular activity in her youth and had developed the sensuously muscular legs that only dancers have. She had also developed the posture of a dancer. It was with a distinct poise and elegance that she carried herself. This, coupled with her confidence, humour and beauty, made Ding a very lucky man.
Del was either very proud of her body or blissfully unaware of how beautiful she was, but regardless she was quite comfortable walking around her house in figure hugging clothes and mildly revealing dresses. She had a particular fondness of wearing short skirts with tight tank tops and it was quite clear that she didn't often wear bras. It was hard not to notice her pencil nub sized nipples protruding through the thin fabric of her tops. I imagined that her areolas were perfectly proportioned to her nipples; not large or puffy, but smaller and a perfectly toned contrast to her skin colour.
It was even harder not to notice her amazing legs when she reached up to grab something up high. Standing on her toes really accentuated her toned legs, her muscles often flexing as she reached. Stretching up high also lifted her short skirts even higher until her ass cheeks started to peek from below the hem.
On one occasion I was at their place having a few beers with Ding when Del came home after a run. She arrived panting at the front door, sweat dripping down her neck, saturating the already clinging material of her sports bra. I could see the sweat beads tracing a beeline down her front into the small valley between her ample breasts, her nipples slightly raised through the fabric of her top.
"This looks like trouble," she said, kicking her shoes off at the front door and hanging her cap on a nearby hook.
"Hey babe," said Ding. "Did you have a good run?"
I watched as a bead of sweat traced its way down her flat stomach to the top of her lycra running shorts, soaking into the pale blue fabric as she walked over to us. She bent forward and kissed him on the cheek, inadvertently giving me a pleasant look down her cleavage. She straightened up and stood next to Ding, draping her arm over his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her waist, gently squeezing her.
"Not bad. It's a bit warm so I just took it easy." She looked over at me, "Hey Sean, what's been happening?"
I grinned at her and then nodded at Ding, "Just doing what I normally do, trying to lead this guy astray."