All For The Love Of A GirlChapter 10 free porn video
“The best thing to hold onto in life is each other.” Audrey Hepburn
I need to backtrack a little for this next part. It was about three months after the first birthday party for Thomas I first noticed something was different about Mindy.
Before I start telling the next part of our story, I need to explain something about myself, and also about Jennifer, Mindy and Sara.
As you know, I am Southern to the bone! Part of that Southern heritage is one of my all-time favorite foods is fried catfish, with “sawmill” gravy and biscuits.
Mindy usually fixed that for me at least two or three times a month – sometimes more often. She is a great cook.
Jennifer’s parents had money. Not necessarily rich, but definitely upper-middle class.
As such, Jennifer learned at an early age all the proper rules of etiquette, all the proper names for every kind of knife, fork and spoon, exactly where and how to place them on the table.
Did you know that, in addition to regular forks, there are actually salad forks, fish forks, cake forks and pastry forks? Jennifer, Mindy and Sara all knew this.
They also learned what kind of wines should be served with different kinds of foods.
The chance of any of the three serving the wrong wine with a meal was almost non-existent. Non-existent that is, under normal, “rational” conditions.
There is that word again, RATIONAL.
Thus one night when Mindy served red wine with my catfish, I knew something was wrong.
I actually went out to my workshop, and wrote on my calendar RWWF, which stands for Red Wine With Fish.
Over the next two weeks, I began making many little entries that, by themselves, would have been insignificant, but taken together began to paint a picture.
Little tiny flashes of irrational behavior. She would go to the store to get a loaf of bread, and come back with crackers.
Or perhaps, pickles and ice cream.
That was a pretty significant clue!
One thing I put down every single day was MB, which stands for More Beautiful, because that is what Mindy was becoming each and every day.
I honestly don’t understand how someone as beautiful as Mindy is to begin with can become more beautiful each day, but it was true.
Whenever Mindy and I would go out, she would always be impeccably dressed, but when at home she would kick back and wear comfortable clothing.
One of the things I loved about Mindy was she rarely wore a bra at home. She really didn’t need one because her breasts were so firm.
I loved walking up behind her and reaching around and placing my hands over her breasts, or if she was wearing something loose and not tucked in, reaching under and cupping her bare breasts in my hands.
I would brush her nipples with my thumbs, and depending on what time of day, and what Thomas was doing, she might say “Five minutes,” or “I’ve got to feed Thomas and put him to bed,” or if she really had a lot of homework to do, she would promise I would have a great time later that night.
One day I came home and walked into the kitchen while she was standing at the sink peeling some vegetables.
As usual, I walked up behind her and reached under her loose blouse and started cupping her breasts and playing with her nipples.
Her reaction was immediate. With her still wet hands, she unbuttoned her blouse, grabbed my head and almost jerked it down to her nipples, which I proceeded to kiss and suck with love and tenderness. We ended up making love on the kitchen room floor, with Mindy on top of me.
I wrote SN for Sensitive Nipples on the calendar.
Two days later, as I was leaving for work, Mindy came into the kitchen and said she was skipping school that day, because she needed to buy groceries.
I knew that wasn’t true. I mean it wasn’t even a good excuse. Clothes I could understand, but skipping school to buy groceries? Another irrational response.
“What time is the doctor’s appointment?” I asked, quite innocently, like I was only inquiring about the weather.
The look on her face was priceless!
Then I grinned, and said, “Princess, I do believe you are pregnant!”
She could not understand how I knew, since she herself wasn’t sure. True, the at-home pregnancy test said “Yes,” but she wasn’t sure.
I wasn’t about to reveal the secrets of my calendar, so I just told her I had noticed each and every day for the past couple of weeks she was becoming more and more beautiful, and thus that was how I knew she was pregnant.
Oh, and I had noticed how sensitive her nipples were a couple of days ago.
Mindy could still blush so beautifully!
I was her hero that morning, and was also about an hour late getting to the office! And had the biggest smile on my face all day!
Now this next part I am not too proud of, but I had already been through one pregnancy with Mindy and barely escaped with my life – and all my body parts still functioning!
After Mindy’s doctor confirmed she was pregnant, I made a phone call.
My old company commander from Afghanistan was now a Lieutenant Colonel at “Eighth and I,” in Washington, D.C. “Eighth and I” is what Marines call the Marine Barracks in Washington, and I knew my old boss, LtCol Ross had some connections with the personnel department at the Marine Corps Headquarters in Arlington, Virginia.
Without my knowing it, Tom had invited LtCol Ross to the engagement party. He was really impressed with Mindy, and kept telling her she could do a lot better than an old broken-down Marine, but luckily she didn’t listen. He also attended our wedding as well.
I had also called him when we found out Mindy was pregnant, and again when Thomas was born.
Once I got the colonel on the phone, unfortunately I couldn’t stop talking – what we call in the Marine Corps “diarrhea of the mouth.”
“Hi Colonel, how are you, how’s the family, how’s things at Eighth and I. Listen colonel, you know my knee has really improved in the past year and I don’t think I would have any trouble passing the PFT (Physical Fitness Test), and I really miss the Marine Corps, and do you think there’s any chance I could get back in? I realize I probably couldn’t go back as a Staff Sergeant, but I would be willing to come back as a Sergeant or Corporal or even Lance Corporal, and I would like an immediate assignment somewhere overseas, I don’t care where, any place will do ... any remote location at all!”
When I finally ran out of breath, LtCol Ross proved why he was an officer in the Marine Corps.
“Mindy pregnant again, Alan?” he asked.
Damn!
He knew! He knew!
A little too late I remembered why the colonel was a legend in the Marine Corps.
He had been home for the birth of his first child, but the other five times his wife was pregnant he had somehow received orders to remote locations overseas. Six children, and five overseas assignments!
Unfortunately, the Marine Corps had no place for me, so I was going to have to go through with the “Joys of Childbirth” all over again.
At least in the Marine Corps we received combat pay for hazardous duty!
We found out in a few weeks that our next child was going to be a girl, and both Mindy and I were in total agreement only one name would work – Jennifer Melinda, and we would call her Jenny.
While she was pregnant with Jenny, I did perhaps the worst thing I have ever done to Mindy.
And spent another night on the couch. For the first couple of hours by myself, then trying to hang on to the back of the couch. And I deserved it – absolutely, DESERVED it.
I said something I KNEW would hurt Mindy, something I knew she wouldn’t like.
I still feel bad about it.
It happened when she was about five months pregnant. Showing, but not showing too much yet.
We had been invited to a party, and I made an ass of myself.
I very rarely drink. Occasionally, Tom and I will have a drink from his private stock of scotch whiskey, but only one.
At the party, I had had several drinks. I wasn’t drunk, but definitely feeling no pain.
Of course you know Mindy is very small. She is only 5’2”, and still (when not pregnant) only weighs about a hundred pounds. Her “baby” sister had equaled her height by the time Sara was 12. When I met them, Sara was two inches taller, and now towers over her sister.
Mindy was also the smallest girl in her class as school. So, yes, she was a little self-conscious about her height. Not abnormally so, but I am sure she had been teased about her size while growing up.
While at the party, I had been challenged to name the characters from a Disney movie, to which I answered, Sneezy, Sleepy, Dopey, Doc, Happy, Bashful, Grumpy and Mindy!
The movie, of course, was Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs.
I knew I should not have said it, and yet I did.
I knew it would hurt Mindy and I said it anyway.
I absolutely deserved to be sleeping on the couch that night, and probably a lot worse.
But again, Mindy came to me after a couple of hours and wanted to sleep with me on the couch.
For once, I did not complain about my cramped hand and arm, and the almost permanent damage to my spine from falling on the floor.
I won’t bother to go into all the details about the childbirth (both my psychologist and physical therapist says some things are better not remembered), but Jenny finally arrived – all 6 lbs., 14 ounces. She is absolutely the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my life. Of course, she looks just like her Mom! And has her Mom’s lungs!
For months, ALL I had heard from both Mindy and Jennifer was that NOW I would see what a truly perfect baby is.
Since Jenny is a girl, she would be an absolute angel, never get in trouble, and never cause any problems, and would be so sweet sugar wouldn’t melt in her mouth.
Most of the time they were right. She was the sweetest child in the world, a little angel.
Until she started walking.
And started following Thomas everywhere he went.
ANYTHING Thomas did, Jenny had to do.
If Thomas rolled in a mud puddle, then Jenny would be right behind him. And Jenny seemed to always want to do a little more! If Thomas was NEARLY covered in mud, then Jenny had to be COMPLETELY covered in mud!
What I don’t quite understand is – exactly how is this ALL my fault?
I now had both a Devil Dog Prince, and a Devil Dog Princess!
Singer and television personality Arthur Godfrey perhaps best summed up all the qualities of a little girl with his song from the 1950s, entitled “What Is a Girl,” although song is not quite right since he spoke it, instead of singing it:
Little girls are the nicest things that happen to people. They are born with a little bit of angel-shine about them and though it wears thin sometimes, there is always enough left to lasso your heart - even when they are sitting in the mud, or crying temperamental tears, or parading up the street in mother’s best clothes.A little girl can be sweeter (and badder) oftener than anyone else in the world. She can jitter around, and stomp, and make funny noises that frazzle your nerves, yet just when you open your mouth, she stands there demure with that special look in her eyes. A girl is Innocence playing in the mud, Beauty standing on its head, and Motherhood dragging a doll by the foot.
Girls are available in five colors - black, white, red, yellow, or brown, yet Mother Nature always manages to select your favorite color when you place your order. They disprove the law of supply and demand - there are millions of little girls, but each is as precious as rubies.
God borrows from many creatures to make a little girl. He uses the song of a bird, the squeal of a pig, the stubbornness of a mule, the antics of a monkey, the spryness of a grasshopper, the curiosity of a cat, the speed of a gazelle, the slyness of a fox, the softness of a kitten, and to top it all off He adds the mysterious mind of a woman.
A little girl likes new shoes, party dresses, small animals, first grade, noise-makers, the girl next door, dolls, make-believe, dancing lessons, ice cream, kitchens, coloring books, make-up, cans of water, going visiting, tea parties, and one boy. She doesn’t care so much for visitors, boys in general, large dogs, hand-me-downs, straight chairs, vegetables, snow suits, or staying in the front yard. She is loudest when you are thinking, the prettiest when she has provoked you, the busiest at bedtime, the quietest when you want to show her off, and the most flirtatious when she absolutely must not get the best of you again.
Who else can cause you more grief, joy, irritation, satisfaction, embarrassment, and genuine delight than this combination of Eve, Salome, and Florence Nightingale? She can muss up your home, your hair, and your dignity - spend your money, your time, and your temper - then just when your patience is ready to crack, her sunshine peeks through and you’ve lost again.
Yes, she is a nerve-racking nuisance, just a noisy bundle of mischief. But when your dreams tumble down and the world is a mess - when it seems you are pretty much of a fool after all - she can make you a king when she climbs on your knee and whispers, “I love you best of all!”
Arthur Godfrey also listed the attributes of a little boy with another song from the 1950s, entitled “What Is A Boy?”:
What is a Boy?
Between the innocence of babyhood and the dignity of manhood, we find a delightful creature called a boy. Boys come in assorted sizes, weights and colors, but all boys have the same creed: to enjoy every second of every minute of every hour of every day and to protest with noise (their only weapon) when their last minute is finished and the adult males pack them off to bed at night.Boys are found everywhere—on top of, underneath, inside of, climbing on, swinging from, running around or jumping to. Mothers love them, little girls hate them, older sisters and brothers tolerate them, adults ignore them, and Heaven protects them.
A boy is Truth with dirt on his face. Wisdom with bubble gum in its hair and Hope of the future with a frog in its pocket.
When you are busy a boy is an inconsiderate, bothersome, intruding jangle of noise. When you want him to make a good impression, his brain turns to jelly or else he becomes a savage, sadistic, jungle creature bent on destroying the world and himself with it.
A boy is a composite—he has the appetite of a horse, the digestion of a sword swallower, the energy of a pocket-size atomic bomb, the curiosity of a cat, the lungs of a dictator, the imagination of a Paul Bunyan, the shyness of a violet, the audacity of a steel trap, the enthusiasm of a firecracker, and when he makes something he has five thumbs on each hand.
He likes ice cream, knives, saws, Christmas, comic books, the boy across the street, woods, water (in its natural habitat), large animals, Dads, trains, Saturday mornings and fire engines.
He is not much for Sunday school, company, school, books without pictures, music lessons, neckties, barbers, girls, overcoats, adults, or bedtime.
Nobody else is so early to rise or so late to supper. Nobody else gets so much fun out of trees, dogs and breezes. Nobody else can cram into one pocket – a rusty knife, a half-eaten apple, three feet of string, an empty Bull Durham sack, two gum drops, six cents, a sling shot, a chunk of an unknown substance and a genuine supersonic code ring with a secret compartment.
A boy is a magical creature – you can lock him out of your workshop, but you can’t lock him out of your heart. You can get him out of your study, but you can’t get him out of your mind.
Might as well give up – he is your captor, your jailer, your boss and your master. A freckled-faced, pint-sized, cat-chasing bundle of noise.
When you come home at night with only the shattered pieces of your hopes and dreams – he can mend them like new with those two magic words – Hi Dad.
Wynona
- 02.04.2020
- 7
- 0
