This is my first submission to any literary site. If there is one thing I know, every good writer had a great editor and I am looking for help in that regard; even as relates to the title.
It was always my intent to put this story into the Incest/Taboo category. However, as I continue to write, it has become apparent that it will end up being very long; Novels & Novellas may be the better home for it. Your comments on that are equally welcome.
Initially, I am concentrating on character development, so I give you this warning up front: If you are looking for immediate sex, you will be very disappointed. While I want honest ratings for my writing, I want any bad ratings to be based on bad writing, not the absence of stroke material on page one.
Finally, the story is set in the 1930s and 1940s. While I want to be historically accurate, I have taken occasional literary license with some dialogue/slang and facts.
The usual age and theme disclaimers apply.
***
As Frankie concentrated on the task before him, the drone from the assembly line hung over the factory like a cloud of easily ignored but non-stop noise. Republic Aviation had decided to convert the Razorback configuration of the P-47 Thunderbolt fighter, the workhorse of the US Army Air Corp over Europe, to a bubble top canopy over the cockpit. It seemed that the flyboys were complaining that the blind spot caused by the Razorback on the plane's "6" - directly behind the pilot - was giving Hitler's Luftwaffe pilots in their Messerschmidt 109s and FW 190s too much of an advantage in the dogfights over France, leading to a significant loss of American planes and pilots. George Marshall, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff in Washington, ordered Republic to do something about it NOW! So, the engineers hastily came up with the clear, teardrop plexiglass design that gave Army Air Corp pilots a full 360-degree view of the skies. The design was not problem free, though, and Frankie was tasked with finding solutions to some assembly issues. After all, not only had Frankie studied aeronautical engineering at the Casey Jones School of Aeronautics down the road at LaGuardia Airport, he had earned his wings and a commission as a Second Lieutenant after completing basic flight training in the trusty Stearman BT-13 at Lackland Air Field in Texas. He was the ideal guy to fix the problem at Republic's Farmingdale, Long Island plant.
***
Flyboys.
Pilots.
Plant employee.
Yeah, Frankie remained bitter. He had qualified for fighter school during basic training and was excited to be on the troop train to Moultrie, Georgia to learn how to fly AT-6s at Spence Air Field. Excited, that is, until the train derailed just north of Tallahassee. The ensuing crash crushed his left ankle into so many pieces that the Army doctors were faced with more of a jig saw puzzle than surgery. While they were able to save his foot, not only was his flying career was over, he was deemed medically unfit for service in any branch of the military. So, his contributions to the war effort were now limited to the factory. What made it all particularly galling was Amy, his sweet, sexy wife of almost three years.
He and Amy Lundin met as freshmen at Massapequa High School in 1935 and were immediately mutually smitten. She thought Frankie was dreamy, with his Italian good looks and athlete's swagger. He thought Amy was the most gorgeous girl he had ever met: blonde hair, brown eyes, and a figure that made even grown men nod approvingly. Although initially shy with each other as was customary for the times, as they dated through high school they had become increasingly bold in their explorations. What started out as a chaste peck on the cheek after the Friday night Homecoming Bonfire moved to closed mouth kissing during a double feature at the Bijou. A hot summer day spent frolicking on the beach at Coney Island, their sweaty bodies on display in their bathing suits, resulted in kissing "the French way" on the subway ride home. After Frankie had gotten his driver's license and was allowed to take his dad's '31 Ford Roadster to a Saturday night drive-in double feature, their hands began to roam over each other - although Frankie could only feel her firm breasts and hard nipples over her brassiere and her hands never strayed below his belt. That would have to wait until they got married.
Despite his growing sexual frustration, Frankie loved and respected Amy like no other and he abided his time. He knew that they would get married one day and he wanted the marriage to be built on trust. Besides, when he would reach the boiling point, he would sneak into the cellar where the washing machine was, and search for his sister Maria's underwear in the clothes hamper. If he was lucky enough to find a recently worn bra, pair of panties or garter belt with silk stockings attached, he would smell them and play with his hard cock until it erupted. He didn't believe for a minute what Mr. Zerella said about masturbation in Boys Health class, or he would have been blind years ago. And, for some reason, he wasn't bothered that his explosion was caused by underwear worn by his sister, two years his senior. Maria was a very good-looking girl whose figure, while not as quite as curvy as Amy's, was more than enough for Frankie to beat off to.
Amy and Frankie graduated high school in 1939; she went on to attend a local campus of the Katherine Gibbs School to become a secretary, while Frankie went to work for Mario Lorenzo at his Texaco station. Frankie started off pumping gas, checking oil, and washing windshields. His duties soon expanded to repairing flat tires, performing oil changes and, after he had gotten some experience, tuning up engines; he found that he liked working on cars.
After Amy finished secretarial school and got a job with a Massapequa law firm, she and Frankie decided that it was time to get married. With their families and a gaggle of friends attending, they tied the knot at St. Rose's Catholic Church in August 1941. After a lovely wedding reception in the backyard of Amy's parents, they left for a traditional honeymoon at Niagara Falls. They spent their first night as man and wife in a small motel outside of Oneonta, where they delighted in the joys of their bodies as they finally had honest-to-goodness sex. Both were pleased, Frankie with his ability to hold off long enough for Amy to fully accommodate his hard cock and Amy with finding that "losing her cherry" was not the painful, horrible experience all of the girls would talk about in the locker room after gym class.
They returned from their honeymoon to a one-bedroom apartment located between their respective parents' homes, and began the life of a young married couple. That all changed one December afternoon just a few months later. While they were sitting down to Sunday dinner with his parents and Maria, they were all shocked to hear that Pearl Harbor had been bombed by Japan. Dinner conversation focused on what the United States would do to retaliate and whether war would also be declared against Germany.
That night, Frankie and Amy continued to talk about it after they went to bed. With his strong arm around her shoulder, Amy's head was snuggled in Frankie's neck as she toyed with the buttons on his pajama top. Frankie went on and on about how he would not let "those damned Japs and Krauts" make fools of his country. He talked about the pros and cons of the various branches of service and what he thought he would like to do. Having heard his father describe the horrors of trench warfare in the Ardennes in The Great War, serving in the infantry was low on his list. And despite the fun that they had had at Coney Island over the years, Frankie was not a particularly strong swimmer and expressed doubts about joining the Navy. However, when he started to talk about flying, his voice grew excited. He and Amy had gone to Floyd Bennett Field in Brooklyn to watch planes take off and land and he had always wondered what it would be like to fly an airplane. He thought that he could do it. The more he talked about it, the more intense he became. Just think, he could be Lieutenant Frank Puccini, Fighter Pilot!
***
It excited Amy whenever Frankie talked so intensely about something. When that happened, he reminded her of James Cagney, Edward G. Robinson and Humphrey Bogart in the gangster movies they enjoyed watching. She didn't know why, but she loved when men took charge; it always gave her a tingling feeling between her legs. While Frankie never put two and two together, Amy was always ready to engage in a heavy petting session after seeing movies like "Angels With Dirty Faces" and "Little Caesar" while they were dating. And when they returned to their apartment after seeing "High Sierra" shortly after they were married, she treated Frankie to his very first "suck job." She had heard one of the other secretaries at work talking about it one day in the lunch room; the secretary called herself an "icing expert." Although initially disgusted by the notion of putting Frankie's penis in her mouth, she often found herself thinking about it as they became more adventurous in the bedroom. When she burrowed down under the covers and pointed his erection at her ruby lips, Frankie had held his breath in anticipation. She tentatively licked the mushroom head, and found that it was smooth as silk and hard as steel. She became more confident in her actions as she worked her tongue up and down his hard shaft until she finally took him into her warm, wet mouth and started to suck. Frankie hadn't lasted 30 seconds that first time before groaning and erupting deep in her mouth; in some odd way the taste reminded her of salt water taffy, not icing. While surprised at how much he had ejaculated, she laughed a little because it reminded her of the documentary about "Old Faithful" at Yellowstone National Park during the Science Assembly back at Massapequa High. He laughed when she said that practice would make perfect and not to worry about his quick orgasm.
