Jalapeno

A work of Fiction

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All the fictional folk in this fictional tale are all at least eighteen fictional years of age, especially the ones originally from the fictional hamlet of Jalapeno, Texas.

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Webster Groves - Missouri - August 1984

I met Skyler a few days after I rented the tiny little house between the two big houses in the middle of the block in the classy hundred year old suburb of Saint Louis. Sky was babysitting the children of my next door neighbor and I was out in my backyard doing some work.

My neighbor was a nurse and Sky was over there every morning watching her kids who would often be outside playing when I would go out to jog. Sky lived in the next neighborhood over and was a runner too. So we talked about running and the places to run nearby. It was fun talking to a beautiful woman. I missed Laura and Paulette. Sky was interesting and we had something in common.

There was a bit of stuff to clean up, but I parsed it so that I had a reason to be outside. She was obviously bored, I mean she was half my age and beautiful and talking to me. So when the kids went back to school in mid-August I asked her if she wanted to jog with me. We had a few nice runs, but then one day my leg was acting up and I couldn't run.

She was a good sport about it. I made us some coffee and she saw what little stuff passed for decor in my house. Pictures of family, friends and guys had I served with. Since it was the cause of canceling our jog, the nature of my injury came up. She didn't react in horror, but then again I am not certain she really understood everything I had said.

A few days later we were out on a jog and she asked me a couple questions she had been too shy to ask before.

"So you can't..." she said.

"I can still enjoy the feel and taste of a woman," I said, "I can make her happy, that makes me happy."

"Taste," she said.

"Yeah you know," I said.

"Oh, black guys don't do that," she said.

"Wow, look who is engaging in cultural stereotyping," I said.

"OK," she said breaking a smile, "I don't know any guys who are gonna put their face in the place."

"Sure, ya do," I said, "your kickin' the ass of one right now."

I don't think I really expected to get the response I got from from Sky, but it was a welcome surprise.

"You are just teasing me," she said as we reached my street.

"Come in," I said, "I'll show you."

"I'm all sweaty and icky," she said.

"I have a shower," I said "and clean towels."

She didn't accept my offer to lather her up that day. But she has many times subsequently. She went first; then I went. She was naked sitting on my bed when I walked out of the bathroom. What a beautiful sight, she looked at me and saw with her heart what wasn't there. Through a series of orgasms increasing in intensity I showed her that she was highly desirable, at least to me.

I took her to the moon and back; I fed her lunch; then I took her to New Jersey and back. Seriously, I had an six-thirty pm departure. Quite a day for Sky, a nice jog, her first receipt of oral, a tasty BLT, her first white dude, and then her first flight, sitting in the jump seat in the cockpit of a Lockheed L-188 flying literal tons of car parts to the Ford Assembly Plant in Edison, New Jersey.

Her first experience at cohabitation followed soon thereafter.

***

Laura

Jalapeno - Texas - August 1964

God has a sense of humor, the best sexual relationship in my life began and ended with the same physiological phenomenon. Those events separated by six months from one another. A doctor might say that my big sister Laura's menstrual cycle was erratic, but it wasn't, it was nice and steady before and after those two events. A psychologist might say that the events were stress induced. Maybe, but I am going to stick with divine sense of humor.

Laura is a few weeks more than two years older than I am. Back in February of 1964 I had just started my final semester of high school; Laura had just acquired her two-year accounting degree in December. She had moved back to Jalapeno to try and modernize the ranch's finances.

In the process she had reconnected with Merle, her old high school beau. But a mere two days ago his reaction to her being "a little late" tore her apart. The next day she wasn't late anymore, but she was really glad she hadn't put off the discussion.

Uncle Carl, mom's older brother, did not have any children. Mom had four. It was the kind of math even a high school dropout could comprehend. Laura stood to inherit a quarter of the spread. Throughout high school she had been pursued by those selfish little pricks that just wanted her for the money she had, and the money she stood to have one day.

Merle, the only one who was different had just reacted to the possibility of her being pregnant. And... Well, his suggestion was not one she had contemplated him making. Growing up we had always talked about 'important to us' stuff with each other, so I owned the shoulder that she came to cry upon.

I skipped school and we drove the pickup out to the dilapidated old cabin by the fishing pond. There was a little bit of ole Cletus' homemade liquor hidden out there. We took a couple of blankets with us in deference to the temperature outside.

We sat and talked in the cabin; lighting a fire in the fireplace to warm us on that fifty degree day. We had a few drinks of Cletus' finest and we realized that we had far more than a little bit of coincidental self interest. We genuinely cared about each other. We said it would just be a temporary thing. Nobody could ever find out. Other people would not understand.

We loved each other, truly loved each other; so it should not be surprising... That afternoon we actually made love with each other, on the cabin's wooden floor in front of the fireplace. We were comfortable and happy atop of, and covered by those blankets that we had the foresight to bring.

We didn't have to think about it on that day, but we were very, very careful. Laura had actually considered her old boyfriend to be a potential husband and father. I was going to A&M in September. We said it would not be forever; but after a while I thought forever would be really nice. I broached the subject a couple of times during the next six months and we seriously discussed the pros and cons.

People idealize their first, or in my case second romance. But it was real and it was sweet and we had sorta worked out a fantasy land way to keep it going after I went off to College Station. Then after four perfectly normal months Laura was late again. It couldn't be, we had been so careful. My reaction was the opposite of Merle's but the situation was different; she had sorta wanted to be pregnant once she got over the surprise six months ago.

We remained close, but the magic spell had been broken. She wouldn't, couldn't risk it. I wanted to, but I loved her too much to put her through that kind of stress. Later she felt guilty for us having broken up as lovers, because I might not have gone into the Corps of Cadets if we hadn't. But like I told her, my being there was my choice. That round got me on my second tour, a tour I did not have to be on.

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Taylor's Craft

Uncle Carl owned one of the twenty-thousand or so copies of William Piper's Cub. I loved flying that little Loch Haven Yellow airplane around the high dry desert plain of western Texas. Uncle Carl was a cattle rancher, so he had several jobs that the Cub was quite useful for, and in me an eager volunteer to do those jobs.

With no electrical system, to start it you first set the brakes. Then you stood next to Walter Jamouneau's improvement of Gilbert Taylor's design, the wide track, forward raked, fat tire main gear. You pulled the laminated wooden propeller through a couple of times: in order to clear potentially damaging liquid residue from the four cylinders of its lille sixty-five horse power air cooled engine.

You reached in through the open door and window to turn the magneto's key to the 'on' position. Set the throttle, and unless the engine was warm you pulled the choke lever out. Pulling the prop through again, the Continental A-65 should start right up. You flew the J-3 from the back seat, the front seat was right at the center of gravity; the airplane didn't know or care if that front seat was occupied.

If you had a passenger it could be a trick to see the few instruments in a single row across the panel. A magnetic ball compass floating in liquid was in the center of the panel; a turn and bank indicator consisting of a ball in a liquid filled curved tube sat directly below it. On the left sat your tachometer and airspeed indicator; an altimeter and a single gauge for oil temperature and oil pressure sat to the right.

The throttle is to your left on the wall just below the window. The stick is between your legs; the rudder pedals are at your feet. Buckle the seat belt so you don't fall out. If you want to close the right window you have to open the door just a tad to fit them together. It is hinged at the bottom. You don't have to; the Cub cruises at sixty-five knots per hour. If you like air you can leave the left sliding window down and the piano hinged right window up.

Like some old cars the fuel filler is directly in front of you and a mechanical float tells you how much of its nine gallon capacity you have left. Full, she will fly for one-hundred-and-thirty or so minutes. Dad taught me and my big sister Laura how to fly it; I taught my little sister and brother. I even took a few, a very few, girls I knew in high school up in it.

It was nineteen-sixty-four; we owned it; it was hangered on our ranch in Jalapeno. You only needed four hundred feet of level well drained grass to take off, three hundred to land. We did not worry about silly formalities like licences. I only got mine because it allowed me to bypass certain classes at Texas A&M later; just as my Calvary commission later allowed me to bypass 'hell month' at Fort Wolters.

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Huntsville - Texas - December 1973

I moved from our folks house seven hours east over to Huntsville to take a job flying a Beechcraft Model Fifty. A Twin Bonanza that belonged to the Texas Department of Corrections. Basically the job was lying prisoners from the five different prisons in and around Huntsville to other cities for their trials. It was a stepping stone. Building hours while being home every night.

Paulette and I rented half of a small duplex facing the freeway just down the outer road from the airport north of town. I wish it had been Laura, but I was pretty happy not to be alone. At that time I didn't figure I was all that desirable as a mate. Paulette found my condition interesting. She was wilder than anyone I had ever known. Probably too wild for me.

I was afraid I would get home and find her dead from some ill conceived idea that she had come up with in my absence. In time her extremes became normal, expected and then even boring, But it wasn't boring or normal in 1974. Play piercing and paddling her, and then finger fucking her to a few orgasms was fun.

***

Paulette Five

Jalapeno - Texas - November 1973

We went to Dallas so Paulette could get a tattoo from Mope, who had done her other three. His work was intricate, artistic and quite painful. He was an unapologetic sadist. Paulette wanted him to tutor me on things that I wasn't certain that I wanted to know about. But I justified it to myself with the rationale that I would do what she needed safely and sanely. The lesser of evils.

Paulette had explained the basic idea, an outline for the weekend, We were not really a couple yet, we didn't have a real arrangement at the time. She wasn't living with me because I didn't even have a place. A problem I solved as soon as we got back from Dallas. So I could go or not go, be tutored or no be tutored. She was going.

The scene took place in the basement of the shop. If I had more sense I probably should have stopped it right there. She came into the room radiant in a slinky dark blue dress and black stilettos. Mope and two others grabbed her roughly and stripped her off her dress. In twelve years together I don't think she ever wore panties. Her wearing a bra was a very rare occurrence.

They put a dog collar on her and she crawled through the dirt and dust and junk to a post that held up the building. She was tied tightly, arns at her sides, a rope above her breasts and one just below. A rope tight across her belly. A pad was taped over the spots that were to be tattooed. The flat between her breasts and her mons.

Then she was whipped with a scourge. It drew blood. Paulette had set some inadequate in my opinion limits, she had drawn the line at being crippled or sexually penetrated, anything else was fine. She had chosen a Sacred Heart design for her chest. Mope added a black design encompassing the number thirteen, the letters 'S' and "M' and the word 'slave' that was tattooed on her pubis. I did not love it although it was an artistic piece.

A few folks drifted in to watch the whipping and the subsequent tattooing as Paulette was bound to the post. One was a guy with his slave girl on a leash, he had her strip and blow others watching the proceedings. Well other than me. She had nipple and cunt rings. The first I had ever seen. Someone told Paulette that I had touched them and so she decided she needed some.

Mope had a french book of really serious design work that included brandings and huge scalpelled piercings and segmented rings. For a time Paulette was interested in getting that sort of a treatment to prevent penetration. Eventually the reality of our situation interceded and she forgot about that level of incapacitation.

She could barely walk as Mope and I helped her up the stairs from that filthy basement. I took her to our hotel room wearing just an overcoat and her heels. We never got her dress back. I gently bathed her and tried to get the little pieces of chipped concrete rubble out of her knees. I put one type of antibiotic ointment on her welts and petroleum jelly on her fresh tattoos.

She told me stories of pain and how she reclaimed herself by hurting herself and then she asked me to hurt her and claim her as mine. I was invited to do what the others had just been denied. After situating her upon the bed with her legs spread I inserted two and then three fingers into her cunt and I pumped hard and used my thumb to play with the head of her clit until she came.

Then she told me she loved me.

***