Soldiers has weekend fun with mother and daughter
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Soldier's Dance free porn video
September 1951
Barbara walked down the long dirt driveway, kicking rocks along the way.
Sitting unused in the field was the Cole family tractor. She wasn't sure why
Mr. Cole never sold it; it would still fetch a pretty penny. Her dad said
Mr. Cole still believes he can go back to farming someday. Barbara didn't
know much about farming, but from the look of his fields, no more than dirt
and dust these days, Barbara wasn't so sure.
She knocked on the screen door and when no one answered she let herself in.
"Richard. Ricky Cole, you in here?" She walked up the stairs peeking into
Richard's room. Empty. Someone though was playing a radio down the hall. She
slowly opened the door to Mr. Cole's room and found Richard lying on their
bed listening to the radio singing along to Doris Day's "Shanghai".
"You're the only guy I know who likes this song. Heck you half sound like
her. You're a funny boy."
"I am a funny boy. But you're just funny looking!" He laughed throwing a
pillow at her.
"Come on Doris Day," she said teasingly, then a bit more seriously added,
"Danny's home from the hospital. Let's go see him."
Richard stood up from the bed and threw an arm around Barbara. When most
boys put their arms around her, it meant sooner or later they were trying to
get to second base. When Richard did it, it was borne of their long
friendship, it made her feel good.
On the way out he grabbed two apples from the kitchen, giving her one.
"How's Danny doing?"
Barbara took on a look of concern, "He's not good. Korea changed him. Not
just that burn on his face. He's different. Wants to go back." Barbara took
a bite of the apple, "Oh, my bike's broke. Stupid chain. We're going to have
to walk. But, hey. How are you? How's your pop?"
"I'm better than Pop. I miss Mom. I miss her a lot. Every day. But it hit
him hard. And now that he had to go to work in the hardware store since we
can't work the farm, it's even worse. Farming's all he knows."
==========
Barbara Baxter's house was just on the outskirts of the small Ohio town, and
unlike Richard's home which showed the neglect brought on by his father's
melancholy, hers was pristine down to the perfect white picket fence and
newly painted bright red door surrounded by bright red bricks.
"Hey Danny."
"Hey Ricky."
Danny Baxter cut a morose figure, although it was obvious, he was trying his
best to keep his spirits up. The burn on his face had largely healed, and
now was just splotchy discoloration, but no real damage to the skin. Based
on what Barbara relayed from the doctors, Richard had expected so much
worse. But for Danny Baxter who fancied himself at one point as handsome as
Marlon Brando, no longer being the "dreamy boy" he was in high school was a
massive blow.
"Barbara tells me you're going back to Korea. Fight the commies."
"Yes sir. There's nothing here for me. No jobs. All the girls are spoken
for. And the one's that aren't ... well who will have me like this?
"It isn't that bad Danny," Barbara said attempting to sooth him.
"Yeah Danny. It's not. Just a bit different." Rick added truthfully
Danny roared, "I'm not going to let a couple of stupid high school kids tell
me anything! I know what I look like. Now leave me be!"
Moving downstairs to sit on the front porch swing, Barbara spoke to Richard
in low tones, "I don't know if it's his face or the war. But he gets mad
fast. And he's kinda right. I saw the way Jane Conner looked at him at the
market. She could barely hide her disgust. No, not disgust. Embarrassment.
Danny saw it too. I don't think they're being mean; I think they just don't
know how to handle it now."
"My Dad gets mad like that since Mom passed with cancer. Breaks things. Saw
him cry once. That was more scary than when he gets mad," Richard pushed the
thought away, "When does he go back to Korea?"
"Next Tuesday. But he's got to go to some formal sendoff dance or something
in the city first. Every time he mentions it, it makes him mad. But the
officers say its mandatory. So, he's got to go."
"I'm sure someone will dance with him. He's a war hero."
Barbara scrunched up her face, "I hope so. But most of these girls are
looking for husbands. And you know how they can be: stupid and petty."
=========
Farming was in the Cole blood, and after his mother died, Pop Cole drove a
couple of towns over to help his brother work his farm on the weekends. It
helped Pop's brother who was always shorthanded, but it also brought in a
couple of extra dollars to keep the bank away for another day. With Richard
being 17, all but a man, his father had no misgivings about leaving Richard
on his own.
Richard stood in the middle of his parent's bedroom. He was getting that
feeling. At first, he told himself it was because he missed his mom. It made
him feel close to her now that she was gone. But it was more than that. If
he was truthful with himself, it was around before she died. It was
something he couldn't explain.
He pulled open the top drawer that belonged to his mom. Everyone told Pop to
sell her things to make ends meet or give them to folks in the poor house
who needed them, but Pop insisted he wasn't ready. He would. One day. But
not yet.
Richard took a pair of her best panties, and ran them across his face, the
feeling of silk against his skin made him tingle. He folded them placing
them carefully just the way he found them. Opening the second drawer with
his fingers he traced the cups of her conical bullet bra enjoying the feel
of the cotton. Everything was so much softer and nicer than the rough
clothes he wore, everything was so ... pretty. In the bottom drawer he once
again pulled out her girdles and held them up in front of him. He wondered
what it would be like to squeeze into one. Richard was small for a boy, but
she was a bit smaller. Richard bet it would be tight. The idea of squeezing
into a hourglass shape ...
Still laid out were across the bottom of the closet were her shoes. He put
his foot next to her Sunday best heels. They looked like they would fit ...
should he ... his head was growing light with anticipation, his body
swelling with urge ...
No.
He dared not try anything on. It was already confusing enough.
=======
"What are you going to do? Sounds complicated." Richard asked Barbara as
they walked to school together. It was far out of the way for him to meet
her at her door, meant he had to get up early, but he was used to that back
when his father had him work the fields a bit before school.
"It's not complicated. I'm going to catch a bus to the dance. If he's alone
... well ... better dance with your little sister than be seen sitting
alone."
"What's wrong with sitting alone? I sit alone at dances. It not fun, but not
the end of the world."
"It's different. At school dances, lots of boys and girls don't dance. We're
kids. Awkward. But at those soldier dances, it's different. They all have a
sweetheart or someone who wants to dance with them. It will make Danny feel
worse than he does already."
"Or," Richard added, "he may just get even madder because his little sister
feels sorry for him."
=======
It was Saturday afternoon when the phone rang. Richard who had been
listening to a boring radio play was hopeful. Maybe it was Barbara wanting
to do something. Saturdays with his father out of town could be so
uneventful.
"Hello?"
"Hi Richard. It's Barbara."
"I know its Barbara. You're the only one who calls me," he said playfully,
but quite honestly.
But from the disappointment in her voice, Barbara clearly wasn't in a
playful mood.
"Dad caught wind I was going to the city. Saw my bus ticket. He won't let me
go to the dance. Says the city is no place for a girl as young as me alone.
Plus he thinks my idea of dancing with my brother would only make things
worse. Like he's a charity case or something like you said."
"I told you so. What are you going to do?"
"I don't know."
There was a long pause on the phone.
"Richard? Ricky? You still there?"
Richard spoke carefully, "Are we friends Barbara?"
Barbara laughed, "We've been friends since we were four silly boy."
"And we will always be friends? Even if I tell you a big secret about me?
One that's kind of scary and weird?"
"I ... what are you trying to say Richard?"
"I ... I ... think I have an answer ... just ... just come over here at six
o'clock. Bring your bus ticket. And please Barbara, be ready for anything."
=========
It was decided.
Richard sat in the bathtub full of warm water. It was nice and relaxing.
Usually baths, as much trouble as they were, were reserved for Sundays
before church and two other times a week if he was particularly ripe. So,
this felt like the special occasion it was. Throwing one leg onto the edge
of the edge of the tub he generously spread his father's shaving lotion over
his entire leg. Placing the razor blade into the safety head and locking it,
he slowly and quite carefully shaved straight lines into every bit of the
shaving foam, and the light hair that he did have, was soon completely gone.
Splashing water to remove all the remnants lather, he ran his hands down his
leg - smooth as the day he was born. Placing his other leg on the opposite
ledge he repeated the process, marveling that he managed to get both legs
done without so much as a nick.
Drying himself and his feet and hands carefully, he shook the bottle of nail
polish he had found. He wasn't sure if nail polish needing shaking, but it
seemed the sensible thing to do. With the precision he used to paint small
parts on model airplanes, he painted each toe carefully with the bright red
polish. Wiggling his toes when finished, he marveled on how such a simple
thing, coupled with his clean-shaven legs, made his feet into those of a
woman. Placing his hand on the edge of the tub, he painted each fingernail
with that same care.
"No shorts and bare feet for me for a while," he mused to himself.
Bathed and clean, nails dry, he stood in the middle of his parents' room. As
he done many times before, he opened his mother's drawers allowing his hands
to run across the silky fabric of her clothes. He pulled her panties out,
holding them in front him by the corners taking in the sight. And unlike all
the times before, he stepped into them. His body tingled with joy as his
heart rate quickened at the thought this forbidden act. Standing before the
mirror he realized he had too much man showing, and quickly adjusted himself
to hide the evidence. The girdle would help with that too.
As he suspected, the girdle was very tight. Pulling it up over his hips, he
had to shimmy the way they put on wetsuits in surfing movies, to get it all
the way up to his chest. And boy did it squeeze, but not in an unpleasant
way. It squeezed in just the right way, shaping his body nicely, giving him
a nice girlish figure. There was a pleasure in the discomfort, in the
knowledge this was coming together.
Next to the girdle in the drawer were several pairs of stockings. Looking at
each carefully, Richard decided on the flesh colored one with the dark brown
seam running up the back. Sitting on the stool in front of the wardrobe, he
rolled the first stocking down all the way into a ball, the way one readies
a particularly tight pair of socks. Pointing his toes outward so that the
toe seam fit perfectly across his freshly painted red nails, he slid the
stocking up his leg slowly, reveling in the feel of the silk against his
freshly shaven legs. Despite himself, he let out a little sound of joy. The
second pair slid up just as joyfully, pleasingly, feeling wonderful against
his skin.
Putting each leg up on the stool, he hooked the stockings into the girdle
stocking clasps that hung from the bottom of the undergarment. Turning his
bottom toward the mirror he stood on his toes, satisfied the seam were
straight. In this positioned, perched as he was, he stared in wonder at how
shapely and womanly his legs actually were.
The bra was trickier, but after several tries of reaching behind him trying
to hook it, he realized he could take the arm straps down and spin the hooks
to the front and spin it back the right way. He stuffed the cone cups with
socks. They looked good. He pressed his hands against them ... no ...
despite their stiffness, the cups collapsed too easily, they were too soft.
He went into his room grabbing two baseballs. He wrapped them in socks
putting each one into the bra filling the empty area with tissue paper. He
squeezed again. Much better.
Looking through his mother's side of the closet he searched for a blouse.
Most were dowdy and boxy for church, or long sleeve thick shirts to work the
fields. But in the middle of all of that he found a dark red blouse that
would go nicely with the black skirt that hung next to it. The black low
peep toe pumps - Richard was so glad he decided to paint his nails - closed
out the combination.
He looked at himself in the full-length mirror. From neck to his painted red
toes he was perfect. But that was the easy part.
Finding it surprisingly easy to navigate in heels, Richard headed down to
the basement. Piled in the corner were magazines never thrown out. Rifling
past old copies of Life Magazine he found what he was looking for - thank
god it was still here - a 1949 copy of "Women's Charm." Even as a younger
boy the article on "Make Up for the Real Go Getter" fascinated him. He
thought it was pictures of the pretty girls applying makeup, but maybe he
should have realized at this point it was really something more.
Matching the makeup in the pictures from what he pulled from his mom's
vanity cabinet, he went to work with the care he imagined they used when
assembling atomic bombs. Foundation, eyeshadow, powder, mascara, all were
applied ... with a bit of face scrubbing for failed attempts. Lastly the
lipstick was applied. Adding a pair of fake pearls around his neck and it
was perfect.
But now came the part he had been dreading.
Rick opened the red heart shaped box situated in the middle of his mother's
hat boxes. It was her wig, the one she wore to church when the cancer began
taking her hair. Just holding it made Rick want to cry, but with a burst of
will he pushed it back. He needed to be strong ... and he couldn't afford to
start again on his makeup this late.
With the raven black wig adjusted correctly, he was now, to all eyes that
would seem him, a beautiful young woman. Smiling at the thought, he saw in
the mirror that the smiling, made him even prettier.
"Ricky! Richard. Hey you up there."
It was Barbara. Time to steel himself. He turned toward the open bedroom
door and waited.
With each approaching footstep his heart beat faster, until finally,
stepping through the door Barbara stopped in her tracks, eyes as wide as
saucers.
"Richard ... you're ..." she halted
Blushing and shame faced, he finished her thought, "A disgrace? A freak? A
fruit?"
She reached out and took his hand in hers, "I was going to say 'pretty'.
You're very pretty right now. I've known you since we were four and I knew
there was something different. And now I know what." She paused again,
taking in the sight of her long-time friend standing before her now as a
lovely young woman.
"You're doing this for Danny, aren't you? It's why you wanted me to bring
the bus ticket."
"I'm doing it for myself. Danny's situation just gave me the courage."
"So, who are you now? You can't be Richard."
In the voice that allowed Rick to mimic Doris Day so well, "Well, 'Becky' is
close to 'Ricky', so 'Becky I guess'."
"Please to meet you Becky".
Barbara smiled. Reaching up, she adjusted Richards hair, pulling them over
his ears. "Your ears aren't pierced, and you don't wear earrings. Can't have
your ears showing. And remember gloves and a hat. Women wear gloves and hats
in the city. And take your hat off carefully so you don't muss your wig.
Here's a brush just in case. Oh, and the bus ticket."
And for the first time in their lifetime of friendship, Barbara kissed him
on the cheek.
======
Danny sat in the corner of the music hall sipping beers. Girls had come
toward him, some turning around when they saw his burns. Others who didn't
seem to care, he scared off with intense scowl. He didn't want their pity.
But glower or not, this particular raven-haired girl in the dark red blouse
kept approaching. And without so much as asking permission, she sat down
beside him. Her stockings made a light swishing sound as she crossed her
legs and dangled her peep toe pumps. She removed her gloves and hat with
great care placing them next to the purse on her chair. She expected to
stay.
"I'm not looking for company," he all but barked at her.
"Perfect. I'm told I'm not good company," she extended a hand to shake his,
"I'm Becky. And you are ... besides in a bad mood I mean ...?"
Danny laughed. That was good. Barbara had said he hadn't laughed much since
the hospital, "Danny. I'm Danny."
"And why are you here by yourself Danny?"
He turned his head so she could clearly see the burn on his face, "See that?
Tell me what you see."
Boldly, she stroked the burn side of her face with her soft red nail
polished fingers, "I see a handsome man with a burn on his face. Absolutely
handsome, maybe no longer perfect, but absolutely handsome. Hopefully on the
inside too. I also see," she gestured toward the dance floor, "some World
War II and Korea vets a lot worse off, dancing and having a good time. That
guy really cutting a rug in the middle of the floor there? One leg. And I
see in them, what I see in you. Someone brave enough to know life goes and
to take what it gives you with two hands. Or am I wrong?"
Danny looked at her as though seeing her for the first time. "You're very
pretty, you know that."
"I ... I've always wanted to hear that. Thank you, Danny. That ... that
means a lot."
"I only wish I met you before I had to ship out for another tour. I'm only
around for two more days."
"Well you're here now handsome. Will you dance with me soldier boy?"
"It would be my pleasure lovely girl."
===============
The end
Mckenna
- 02.11.2021
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