A story requested by a member with a theme involving a disabled veteran. The town names and sex scenes are fictional, the storyline for the most part is not. I do hope this story is what the requester had in mind. As always, your comments and ratings are greatly appreciated.
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You grow up, you marry what you believe to be your true love, ensconce yourself in a career, have some babies, and work until you're practically a non-functioning mess. You settle into what's referred to as the "golden years" only to find out that the most golden thing about those years is your urine.
Oh sure, there was lots of love, laughter and joy throughout those years, but let's face facts, there was also some heartache, along with days of great sadness and loss in those years. When the kids graduated and began their lives outside the home they were raised in, as parents we were excited for them, when the grands came along we slobbered all over them and munched their little butts. By the time the grands were ready to go out into the big bad world we were talking about retiring, selling the house and moving somewhere warm.
Never did we take into account now that they're all older and busy with "life" that we would somehow become secondary. No, I certainly don't begrudge them individual success and happiness, but a returned phone call or text message would be nice. Here's a novel idea, a phone call on Mother and Father's Day. I know I'm pissing into the wind and bitching for nothing, but some days it makes me feel better to agonize over the loss of my Lillian and the fact that I'm in a place that's so damned hot I can't even grow Lilacs.
Lillian and I grew up with parents and grandparents who'd survived the Great Depression, our parents were children when they went though it, but they still remembered all the hardship. Through the years we heard reference to those stories again and again, which in turn influenced heavily how we saw the world. It wasn't all bad, oh heavens no, but we also knew it was wise to live frugally and save, you didn't need to have three sets of sheets if two would do, you had two pair of shoes, one for chores the other for school and church.
You threw almost nothing away, there would be a use for that someday, it was simply a way of thinking that focused on future survival. So much so that when my oldest aunt died, we were going through the attic sorting what was junk and what would go in the auction when I came across little coupon books from WW2. Tabs for sugar, flour, salt, even one for a tire. Mind you this was 1987, why would you hang onto such things? Because we grew up in an era of less, which in light of our present world, was actually more.
Lil and I started seeing each other in high school but hadn't grown up knowing one another, we went to the same high school but lived in different communities, we met formally at a homecoming dance in 1970. She had come with one of the jocks but was having no fun, seems the jock was more interested in schmoozing the cheerleaders than attending to his supposed date.
We danced a few times and sat at a table talking before the jock realized where she was and stormed over, I was in no mood for a fight and excused myself. Later as I was leaving the boys room she was standing in the hall and slipped me a piece of paper with her phone number, cell phones didn't exist. We grew closer through phone calls and seeing each other at school the rest of that year. When summer came I rode my bike the three miles to her house as often as I could, we quickly became an item, me giving her my class ring and asking her to go steady in July at the county fair. From that point forward we wanted no one else in our lives. Most of our romance was seeing each other at the cinema, church picnics, going to a supposed chaperoned party where we'd sneak off behind the bushes for ten or fifteen minutes of kiss and grope.
When it all began, we fumbled and bumbled our way through the first kisses and what little petting we took part in. I had such a hardon the first time she let me touch her breast over the dress I nearly pulled all the skin off the back of my head, or so it seemed. There was no such thing as hook ups or friends with benefits, girls who took part in those activities outside marriage were known as sluts and the guys were known as wolves. Daddies didn't like their little virgins going out with wolves, so once you gained that reputation you were pretty well screwed for the local dating scene.
The day I got my drivers license that all changed for Lillian and me. Getting my license was based on whether I brought my grades up or not, by the time I was 18 I had shown them I could attain good grades and keep them, my folks allowed me to get my temps and test, no mandatory drivers ed then. After attaining my license it took a month or more before the old man let me take the '58 Ford wagon for a date with Lil. We endured her dad's admonitions to behave and act properly, with her mother yelling as we walked out "there are no prayers answered in the back seat at midnight", whatever the hell that was supposed to mean, she had an eleven o'clock curfew anyway.
Seat belts were not a law yet, we were no more than out of the driveway when Lil slid across the seat and tucked herself into my side, taking my right hand and putting it on her leg just above the knee. My dick was instantly hard and as I tried to move my hand higher, she put her hand on mine and told me.
"Don't ... be happy with what you get, or you get nothing."
Oh glory, my cock was straining against my pants trying to break out and I was hoping she hadn't noticed, until she looked down and smiled. We went bowling and then to a pizza joint, just before we were to turn onto her road she told me to pull into McLaughlins field and park behind the rows of corn. When I did, she scooted to the passenger side door and wiggled her finger at me, the moment I was within range she grabbed my head and kissed me like a woman on fire.
With my arms around her and our lips locked together like the doors of Fort Knox I pulled her in so tight she had trouble breathing. Pushing back, she looked at me in the moon light.
"Not so hard Brian, be gentle with me, treat me like I'm special. We can only neck for a few minutes so let's make the most of it."
This was the first time we ever tried Frenching, it was okay, but we'd need to work on that a bit more. It was also the first time she let me squeeze her breast. As I drove home from her house, I couldn't get over how wonderful it felt to squeeze and mold that soft warm mound of flesh, maybe soon she'll let me do it without her bra. When I got home the lights were out and everyone was in bed as usual, walking through the laundry room I rustled through the hamper and found a pair of my sisters used panties, stuffed them in my pocket and went to bed.
Taking the situation in hand I found relief in less than ten minutes, coating Cinthia's white cotton panties with warm thick cum. I sure hoped ma would just toss them in the wash and not inspect them, if she did, I was screwed, in more ways than one. Grabbing a pair of Cinthia's panties after every date with Lil became a habit, I got brave enough just once to use a pair of mothers, she wore the smooth nylon bikini panties, they were oh so soft gliding around my dick. Not feeling very brave I only did that once.
I began seeing Cinthia in an entirely different light, she wasn't just my kid sister, she was a young hot looking babe with a pussy that obviously leaked a lot. It made me wonder if she and Allen Hilgart were doing more than simply holding hands. Mother must have wondered the same thing because one Saturday morning I noticed she was checking all Cinthia's panties when she did laundry. Masturbating with my sister's panties came to a screeching halt, which was actually okay because Lil and I were expanding the parameters of our physical relationship now that we were both 18 and a few months from graduation.
