Incestuous Flesh Massage Chapter 4 Brother s Incestuous Rescue
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I am not a super-hero, I’m not sure they even exist other than comics, movies, and TV. But I was inspired by a complete stranger to not be afraid to do some things some people I know have called ‘heroic’. It all started when I was all of eighteen years old and working at a small airport bookstore. You know the type of job, you keep the shelves filled, cash out customers, and pretty well try and stay busy enough not to be bored. It seemed in the time before kindles, people traveling bought lots and lots of books.
Well, this little bookshop also carried magazines, a wide variety. I mean we had sports, home projects, cooking… I mean we had magazines for just about any interest, including several of what were labeled as ‘men’s magazines’. Nothing terribly graphic, more the Playboy and Penthouse sort with the good bits airbrushed out. But it was enough to cause the first time I ever was ‘rescued’.
It was a typical day and several people were browsing in-store, nothing unusual, until I heard, “What is this doing here,” in a loud and angry voice.
I looked up as a small pile of those men’s magazines hit the counter in front of me and an irate man was standing there looking all sorts of offended — and he was taken it out on me. He was a big guy, easily in his forties or fifties, large shoulders with a bit of a paunch. Physically, he seemed to tower over little me.
I can’t even remember what he said, but the vitriol is something I would never forget. I remember being torn between hiding under the cashier’s counter, running screaming from the store, or calling security on the nut-job. His main complaint was based on his religious beliefs and how these types of magazines were evil and devil-inspired. It was awful to experience and I was lost for what to do.
Enter the Lady. That is how I think of her to this day, the Lady with an uppercase ‘L’. He was doing everything but screaming at me when she shouldered past him, stopping his spewing in surprise more than anything else. She was tall, somewhere between his and my age, and slim, but solid looking. While the other customers were avoiding the counter, she pushed right up to it and ignored him. Then to both of our surprises, she picked up a copy of Penthouse and started thumbing through the pages, stopping at some of the pictures. She calmly paid for it and strolled out while reading it.
The idiot seemed to completely lose his train of thought and just as she exited the store, she looked right at me and winked. She became my hero. He never did get back on track and after he left the store, I returned the magazines to their place and breathed a deep sigh of relief. On break, I walked the airport, but I guess she already caught her flight because I couldn’t find her. I never did see her again, but I have never forgotten her and what she did. It was such a small thing, well maybe to her, but to me — it was certainly heroic.
So that’s what started me on the path of being much less afraid to take action. I understood why those other customers avoided the counter during his spittle-producing rage, but I decided I would never leave someone in a similar position, and I have done my best to live up to that.
What I call my first official ‘save’ was actually on a running trail just outside of town. I was jogging and passed a girl who had broken a chain on her bike. She kept nervously looking over her shoulder as I approached her. I had to stop.
“Are you okay?”
“I think so, my chain broke and I am walking back to my car,” as she said it she looked over her shoulder again.
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing I hope, but this guy ran past me, came back and ran past me again and did it a third time a little while ago. He’s creeping me out.”
I thought about it and thought about my hero again and ended my run right then and there. “Hi, I’m Lois. How about we walk to your car together.”
The look of gratitude actually made me uncomfortable, but I was glad I did it because the guy who was making her nervous ran up behind us and slowed down. After a couple of minutes, I turned and took a picture of him. In a loud voice, “I wonder if he’s a sex offender. Going to have to call my boyfriend the cop to check out the picture of this creep.” He ran past us much faster than he had been moving.
Her name was Pia and she was about my age and we talked about so many things as we walked nearly four miles to her car. The best thing was we didn’t see the creep again. She did ask me about my boyfriend, the cop, and I laughed. “I know a few, but I’m not dating anyone right now. I just said it to make the jerk sweat a little.”
“Well, I think it worked!” And we shared a good laugh.
While I didn’t see any real big deal, Pia called me ‘her hero’ and, to be honest, it felt pretty good because it reminded me of my hero from several years back. We ended up good friends and often ran or biked together for the next several years, right up until she got married and moved away. We still keep in loose touch, you know the occasional letter, or more email and text messages and the usual Christmas card. I know, you would like to know about our torrid lesbian affair, but at the time, we were both straight and something like that never occurred to us — well, at least not to me.
While I would love to say stuff like this happened all the time, the reality was it wasn’t very often. Sometimes nothing came of it. I mean, I gave someone a hand and it wasn’t something they couldn’t have handled on their own. But every time it did, I always remembered my hero and figured I would rather be wrong and have nothing happen than not step up even a little and find out something bad happened.
For example, I was running through an area park one day and saw something strange, a guy sitting on the hood of his car with binoculars. It wasn’t that strange — maybe birdwatching? However, on the other side of the soccer field was a community swimming pool. As I ran past I took note of his license plate and I made sure he noticed me looking. He wasn’t there when I got back to my own car, so I wasn’t too worried about it. But because I was feeling itchy about it, I drove down the to lower part of the park, where there were a couple of baseball diamonds and a large playground and saw his car again, this time backed into a corner parking spot and pointed right at the playground. I could see him and his binoculars again inside the car. I called and reported his behavior to the local cops.
I know, some people might think I was butting in, but my thoughts on that day were if I wake up in the morning and see a headline about a child missing from the pool or the playground, I would feel like absolute shit. I never heard if anything became of it, but I was glad to report no missing kids then!
I guess you have enough background here and I know I hinted at something that might interest you, two 'rescues' in particular. The first was when I was rapidly approaching my thirtieth birthday. My job required a lot of traveling, so a fair number of cities became like a second home to me. I would often scope out certain hotels in nice parts of town and make sure there were plenty of restaurants and bars within walking distance. I traveled mostly alone and while I often made local friends, there were always times I ended up spending it solo.
So, on one trip to St. Louis, while staying at the hotel off of their convention center, I was passing the hotel bar and saw something that made me remember my hero again. There was this pretty big guy and he was loudly bragging to his buddies about something or other and then he pointed at a lady sitting alone at the bar. That itchy feeling hit me again, so I slowed down and took a seat in the lobby ostensibly digging through my purse. I watched him offer to buy the lady a drink and while I couldn’t hear the words, the physical motions told me she declined and she didn’t look rude about it. But he didn’t take it well.
He went back to his buddies and then I could hear him telling the server to take a drink to her anyway. The server did her job and the lady declined to drink. That’s when he got up and I put my invisible super-hero cape on and strode into the bar. I went past him quickly and stopped at the women.
“I’m so sorry if I kept you waiting, but it was unavoidable.” She looked at me slightly confused, but she saw the dead-from-the-neck-up idiot looming up behind me. She was quick and smart.
“That’s fine, I was finished here. Shall we go?”
She took my arm and we went past him like he wasn’t even there. The look on his face was wonderful, but I guess he was really going to get it from his friends because they were laughing their asses off at him.
She went with me to the elevator and once the door closed, we both started laughing.
“OMG, thank you! I think the jerk was going to get physical. He was drunk enough to be stupider than usual.”
“Oh, you know him?”
“No, just the type. His pals were egging him on and I was going to try and beat a hasty exit when you came in.” She stepped closer than I was comfortable and touched my face, then she kissed me. Nothing crazy, just a little peck on the lips, but I think I felt it clear down to my toes, which surprised me.
We got off the elevator on the same floor and she invited me to her room for a private nightcap. There was only one chair, so we ended up sipping fortified hot chocolate on her bed and just chatting. She was about ten years older than me, taller, more full-figured, dark hair with a bit of a wave, and a pretty face. She also had a good sense of humor and a ready supply of ‘guy stories’, which I matched her story for story. Then she really surprised me and leaned over and kissed me again. Something told me this wasn’t going to be a simple peck because of how gently the kiss started.
Maybe I should have run, but I was feeling good, nice, and relaxed and — to be honest, her kiss was fabulous. In fact, up to that day, it was the best kiss I had ever gotten. She was so gentle, and there was no jamming her tongue into my mouth or swirling it around like she was doing a root canal or tonsillectomy. That kiss went on for a long time and as she pulled away, she looked at me a little quizzically. “You’re not gay, are you?”
I shook my head because I’m not sure I was able to talk at that moment. She went to move further away, but I stopped her by reaching out and taking her arm. “Nope, I’m straight, but I think it’s curable!”
You might think I was crazy, but there is a lot you don’t know about me. Yes, up to that point, I was straight, but there had been a curious factor since high school. I wasn’t confused, but I was curious. I had a couple of lesbian acquaintances and once witnessed them kissing under the mistletoe and it reminded me of ‘kissing practice’ when I was younger with my best friend Glenda. We never went further than kissing, but I always harbored a curiosity. I just never acted on it. I guess I really didn’t try to act on it, but after a kiss like that, my curiosity was peaked as were my nipples. I know that because I caught her looking.
She paused as she considered my answer, but I think she was convinced when I pulled her back down for another kiss. That seemed to break the ice pretty well because we spent the rest of my trip in either her hotel room or mine each evening. She taught me a lot about my own body and I certainly enjoyed learning about hers. I was sorry to leave, but I know it was only a business trip romance because she had a husband at home.
To be honest, I was surprised, but she told me she was free to play when out of town, as long as it was only with girls and told him all about it. She said he was free to play with guys all he wanted, as long as he told her. I didn’t judge their relationship, but it did make it more than a little strange for me. It still was a slightly painful parting because I found a woman can touch my heart more than I ever thought.
At that point, I no longer considered myself straight but drifted from relationship to relationship with little regard to gender. Some of my closest friends commented on it, but only a few faded out as I realized it made them uncomfortable. After a few years, I found myself strictly attracted to women. The downside was I found myself more attracted to straight women.
That made life a challenge. Sure, there were quite a few lesbian and bisexual women in the places I now spent more and more time. A number of them became friends, interesting friends, but there never seemed to be a spark. The only time I felt something other than friendship was meeting a woman who I knew was straight. It was kinda freaky for me. I mean I knew these women were practically unobtainable, but the attraction I felt was there. I also know I struck out often. Since I wasn’t being a drunk, belligerent asshole when I made a play, I was always let down pretty gently, but I was let down.
I guess you don’t need to know about my failures and my occasional success. This story is about my super-hero-ish-ness — and if that isn’t a word, it is now. So while there were other ones, this is the most memorable one. It actually started a lot like the last one. Hotel, sports bar next door, belligerent dickhead, only he picked on the wrong person.
I wasn’t traveling this time, I was sitting with a few friends commiserating over the failure of our baseball team, yet again. What caught my eye was a gorgeous lady sitting at the bar, also watching the game. While I was with a few friends, she was alone.
She was small, not much over five feet, long black, almost bluish hair, and very slim. If she topped one hundred pounds, I would be surprised. What caught my eye was the way she moved, so smooth, like a dancer. My eyes couldn’t help following her as she made a trip to the loo. From the front, she looked even better. Asian, without a doubt, and a heart-shaped face then just begged to be kissed. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who thought so because a guy tried to pick her up and she subtly declined. I thought that was the end of it, but the guy kept trying his luck. He got drunker and her refusals got less and less polite. After the game, I saw her leaving and then saw him and his buddies leaving at the same time. I followed them out in the parking lot and saw what I expected to see. Only he made a big mistake.
He grabbed her arm and she shook it off. He went to grab her again saying something like, “What are you gonna do, karate me?” His buddies thought he was hilarious.
As soon as his hand made contact again, she punched him right in the middle of his body mass, right below the breastbone. She hit him hard and he went down like a sack of manure. Her words were what struck me, “I don’t know karate!”
I backed off thinking she didn’t need any help, but his buddies got annoying and started making threatening noises. That’s when I swirled my cape and went for it.
I stepped through them and walked up to her and without a word, I grabbed her and laid one on her. She didn’t flip out, but after an almost infinitesimal pause, she kissed me back. The jerks were all flabbergasted and I managed to get her out of there and down the block before they even managed to get their buddy to his feet. We went into the hotel and held our laughter until we were off the street.
She introduced herself as Jules as we went to the elevator.
“I’m sorry, Jules, I’m not staying here.”
“It’s okay, I am and if you think after a kiss like that you are getting away, you have another think coming!”
In the elevator, I learned that she might be small, but her body was tight and she didn’t take no for an answer, as if I would say no. I guess my straight-girl radar was off because she was not only not straight, she said she had never been straight, not even in high school when all the other girls were mooning over the quarterback, she was mooning over the cheerleaders!
Exploring her body told me why she was able to put the jerk down. She was in unbelievable shape. If there was an ounce of fat on her body, I think she would have beat if off with a stick. She was the most energetic lover I have ever had, bar none. Making love with her was like plugging into an electrical socket. She gave so much and made you want to give even more. Her small body was a joy to see in orgasm. Let me tell you about that first one.
I enjoy cunnilingus, like many women. I love giving it and having it given to me. Sixty-nine has been a favorite number for years. So, Jules and I waste no time once we made it to her room. Although I think if the elevator needed to go up a few more floors, we might have given someone a real shock when the doors opened.
Once safely in her room, we barely made it to the bed as clothes went flying and I ended on top of her. Since I was about half again her body weight, I tried to be careful, but she was having none of that. As I said, tiny, but solid! After some serious kissing and exploring, I ended up in one of my favorite places, looking up at the cutest little pussy that had a light coating of hair. She was delicious and so responsive. Every touch, every taste, even any noises I made cause her to squirm all over the king-size bed. I had trouble staying with her until she got close to her orgasm.
That’s when she turned serious. Every muscle in her body contracted as she almost curled up, with me trapped between her very strong thighs. Then, with a huge outpouring of breath, she extended as far as her body would allow, but her thighs got tighter and tighter. For a brief second, I thought I was going to have to tap-out when she collapsed completely. I am not talking about getting relaxed, she collapsed so quickly I thought she might have had a heart attack. Luckily, I could see her still breathing, very deep, and very hard. I could also see her pulse hammering in her neck.
The grin she flashed when she recovered told me I was in for it and she was right! That girl gave as good as she got. I was totaled by the time we fell asleep. Like everything else, she did it full bore. When she was ready for sleep, I think it took her all of five seconds to pass out. I laid there just looking at her. I told you I tended to give my heart away quickly. I did once again. Only this time, she kept it.
That ‘rescue’ was eight years ago and two years later, Jules moved here from Vancouver. We’ve been together ever since. We’ve actually done a couple of rescues together, usually from some stupid idiot who had too much to drink, but a couple of them were really scary. It’s nice to know my Jules has my back when that feeling of super-hero-ish-ness climbs its way back to the forefront of my brain.
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