"Tommy" Part 2.
"Tommy"
By Gentile
Part 2.
---------
Her mother, my mother-in-law by law pulled me aside remarkably soon after our wedding mass and before we headed to the reception. Yanked on the sleeve of my Air Force uniform. "Cully, son,"......she stopped and looked to the heavens..."Son, just be careful with Girl. She's a little high strung at times. Strung very high, yes, that's it. Try and not get her started crying because once you do that it's very difficult to get Girl to stop crying." (I'd found that out, by God). "She's a might frightful truth be told." Whatever that meant. I waited for more, but, confirmed she'd finished. So I went:
"Sure, uh, Mrs. Ca...I mean, ma."
"You're welcome, Cully." Gave me a kiss on the cheek. "Good luck, sweetheart." Turned loose my arm-******d away like an old Gypsy woman.
Years later I told mother how the old Gyp had warned me. "Well, Dale, you're no picnic, son."
Left hand she wrung in & out. Right hand wrung her clitoris.
"Oh, fuck, Cully. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" She bellowed, top of her lungs." Faster and faster each hand raced.
'FUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!" The scream was more of an extended screech like a dog who gets hit a good one by a fast moving car.
I either imagined she leaned over and tried to bite me, or, didn't imagine it. I did, I imagined it.
"Get me home, spread me wide and fuck me, boy. I need a hard cock. Any will do. Yours isn't handy. Get it handy, Cully. Tromp on that pedal."
Traffic had slowed at about the midpoint. "Looks like an accident ahead, uh, Girl."
"Both my bucket and your bucket are slippery, Cully. I'm leaking love juice all over it, honey. My whole crotch is soaked. My ass too. Stem to stern. I'm going to see if I can stick the brush up my ass." She pulled it clear of her snatch. That's when I snatched it from her. "You're not sticking this (I held it close to the roof opening) up your ass, GD, it. We'll end up out at the base hospital with it stuck up in there. I'll be the laughingstock of SAC, GD it!" I hung my hand down the side of the car and dropped it on the highway. It stayed down instead of bouncing up and landing in the car behind us.
"Can I masturbate one more time, Cully? Por favor, Senor'?"
I kind of enjoyed being the level headed one for a change of pace. Usually it was her trying to talk me down from the heights of danger:
"Cully, you're not doing that."
"Cully, put that BB gun back. We're not buying it."
"Cully, we're taking that sling shot back. And I mean it. I told you no."
"Cully, you're not going there."
"Cully, now no. And I mean it."
For probably the first time in our marriage I was the adult. I felt smug. I felt uppity. I felt in the right.
"Cully, look!"
Momentarily lost in my reverie I found she'd lowered the top of her dress and her breasts were exposed.
"Cully's not a tit man. Cully's not a tit man. Cully's not a tit man." Sing song/Sing song. "You only married me for my rump. That's all you care about, isn't it? You lusted over it the moment we met and since. I caught you looking at it from day one."
Then a final refrain: "Cully's not a tit man."
She grabbed a hand off the steering wheel. "You can spare this, we're going what about 10 miles per hour? Christ already." She dug it in and set it right. She was accurate, it was sopping in there. Rich, thick, hairy, a mess. She moved it about. "THERE! Right there, boy. I'm going twice, that's 2 times for you Air Force boys, so, just stay in contact where your baby set the fucking thing and don't lift off it, ya fucker, you. Stay the course and I'll turn your ass inside out at the house."
And one more time so I wouldn't forget & so I would remember: "I'll move---you stay still! Go!!!!!!!!!"
Once I got the hang of it---it was easy. She moved her right hand beneath her, sat on it, God only knew what was going on under there. Upcoming circumstances made it anti-climatic to even ask to be frank. And I never did. She grabbed my hand with her left and we road it like a bolt of lightning. She knew her capabilities and blew thru those two climaxes like cake work.
Her screams were stunted. Now more like a****l grunts and groans as she slaved thru the spending, crying uncontrollably immediately after the crescendo had finally petered out.
By then I'd cleared the accident, cut the A/C, and was flying thru the night, tipped the trip wire and opened the next two barrels in the straight line Six Pack of that Road Runner. It was like we'd been launched off the catapult. It always starved itself for oxygen when I performed that stunt---not-this-time, the weather just cooled enough to retard that starvation and the speedometer was buried. Now it was Girl in fright and Dale in maniacal flight."
Sobered: "Cullyyyyyyyyyyyyyy."
"Ssssssshhhhhhhhhh, Girl."
The flashing blood red lights mixed with lunatic white in a haywire machination caught me about ready to trip the final 2 barrels. I'd reached, but, had not made contact with the designated toggle. I'd been there, once, with my brother, in Cleveland, and we'd come this{}close to rolling the damn thing. We'd still be tossing & turning if not for our Lord & Savior, Jesus Christ.
Tommy, he had arrived.
(to be continued)
By Gentile
Part 2.
---------
Her mother, my mother-in-law by law pulled me aside remarkably soon after our wedding mass and before we headed to the reception. Yanked on the sleeve of my Air Force uniform. "Cully, son,"......she stopped and looked to the heavens..."Son, just be careful with Girl. She's a little high strung at times. Strung very high, yes, that's it. Try and not get her started crying because once you do that it's very difficult to get Girl to stop crying." (I'd found that out, by God). "She's a might frightful truth be told." Whatever that meant. I waited for more, but, confirmed she'd finished. So I went:
"Sure, uh, Mrs. Ca...I mean, ma."
"You're welcome, Cully." Gave me a kiss on the cheek. "Good luck, sweetheart." Turned loose my arm-******d away like an old Gypsy woman.
Years later I told mother how the old Gyp had warned me. "Well, Dale, you're no picnic, son."
Left hand she wrung in & out. Right hand wrung her clitoris.
"Oh, fuck, Cully. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" She bellowed, top of her lungs." Faster and faster each hand raced.
'FUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!" The scream was more of an extended screech like a dog who gets hit a good one by a fast moving car.
I either imagined she leaned over and tried to bite me, or, didn't imagine it. I did, I imagined it.
"Get me home, spread me wide and fuck me, boy. I need a hard cock. Any will do. Yours isn't handy. Get it handy, Cully. Tromp on that pedal."
Traffic had slowed at about the midpoint. "Looks like an accident ahead, uh, Girl."
"Both my bucket and your bucket are slippery, Cully. I'm leaking love juice all over it, honey. My whole crotch is soaked. My ass too. Stem to stern. I'm going to see if I can stick the brush up my ass." She pulled it clear of her snatch. That's when I snatched it from her. "You're not sticking this (I held it close to the roof opening) up your ass, GD, it. We'll end up out at the base hospital with it stuck up in there. I'll be the laughingstock of SAC, GD it!" I hung my hand down the side of the car and dropped it on the highway. It stayed down instead of bouncing up and landing in the car behind us.
"Can I masturbate one more time, Cully? Por favor, Senor'?"
I kind of enjoyed being the level headed one for a change of pace. Usually it was her trying to talk me down from the heights of danger:
"Cully, you're not doing that."
"Cully, put that BB gun back. We're not buying it."
"Cully, we're taking that sling shot back. And I mean it. I told you no."
"Cully, you're not going there."
"Cully, now no. And I mean it."
For probably the first time in our marriage I was the adult. I felt smug. I felt uppity. I felt in the right.
"Cully, look!"
Momentarily lost in my reverie I found she'd lowered the top of her dress and her breasts were exposed.
"Cully's not a tit man. Cully's not a tit man. Cully's not a tit man." Sing song/Sing song. "You only married me for my rump. That's all you care about, isn't it? You lusted over it the moment we met and since. I caught you looking at it from day one."
Then a final refrain: "Cully's not a tit man."
She grabbed a hand off the steering wheel. "You can spare this, we're going what about 10 miles per hour? Christ already." She dug it in and set it right. She was accurate, it was sopping in there. Rich, thick, hairy, a mess. She moved it about. "THERE! Right there, boy. I'm going twice, that's 2 times for you Air Force boys, so, just stay in contact where your baby set the fucking thing and don't lift off it, ya fucker, you. Stay the course and I'll turn your ass inside out at the house."
And one more time so I wouldn't forget & so I would remember: "I'll move---you stay still! Go!!!!!!!!!"
Once I got the hang of it---it was easy. She moved her right hand beneath her, sat on it, God only knew what was going on under there. Upcoming circumstances made it anti-climatic to even ask to be frank. And I never did. She grabbed my hand with her left and we road it like a bolt of lightning. She knew her capabilities and blew thru those two climaxes like cake work.
Her screams were stunted. Now more like a****l grunts and groans as she slaved thru the spending, crying uncontrollably immediately after the crescendo had finally petered out.
By then I'd cleared the accident, cut the A/C, and was flying thru the night, tipped the trip wire and opened the next two barrels in the straight line Six Pack of that Road Runner. It was like we'd been launched off the catapult. It always starved itself for oxygen when I performed that stunt---not-this-time, the weather just cooled enough to retard that starvation and the speedometer was buried. Now it was Girl in fright and Dale in maniacal flight."
Sobered: "Cullyyyyyyyyyyyyyy."
"Ssssssshhhhhhhhhh, Girl."
The flashing blood red lights mixed with lunatic white in a haywire machination caught me about ready to trip the final 2 barrels. I'd reached, but, had not made contact with the designated toggle. I'd been there, once, with my brother, in Cleveland, and we'd come this{}close to rolling the damn thing. We'd still be tossing & turning if not for our Lord & Savior, Jesus Christ.
Tommy, he had arrived.
(to be continued)
5年前
