The Dark Legacy
- 3 years ago
- 20
- 0
Joe’s Legacy free porn video
I thank my LadyCibelle and Techsan for their patience, proof reading, editing skills. I have to add my thanks to JB for his heads-up on something in this one, he knows what I’m talking about.
It seemed to me like I’d known Joe all my life. His family lived next door but one to mine, looking back I’d say Joe and I spent all our spare time together as kids. We didn’t actually go to school together because Joe was American and he was sent to the nearest American school, somewhere in town. Maybe that’s why he never did lose his Yank accent although he spent nearly all his spare time with us Limeys, as he insisted on calling most of us, in jest of course.
You know the sort of thing. He’d refer to us as Limeys and we’d refer to him as the Yank, it was all in good fun. As we got older Joe and I developed a special kind of bond. Something like some brothers have between them. I knew that I could rely on Joe to back me up in an argument or ruckus, and he seemed to know by instinct that he could rely on me, up to a point.
That one point was to develop when we got older, and it concerned females. When Joe and I started dating girls I soon learnt that Joe had no morals whatsoever where the female of the species was concerned. It seemed that Joe’s one purpose in life was to lay any bit of skirt he could talk into bed, or into the woods in the park, or just about anywhere else that was handy. And, boy, was Joe good at the old chatting the birds up bit.
Even when he did have a steady girl he was still shagging anything else he could lay his hands on. Joe wasn’t choosy either, any old bike would do for him.
Anyway fast forward a good few years and Joe’s father had finished his stint in the UK and the whole family had moved back to the US. I can’t say that I missed Joe that much, because I felt his antics with women were beginning to get embarrassing. You know as we were on the face of it good friends, I was beginning to get painted with the same brush in some peoples’ eyes.
Joe kept in touch with me, by mail, writing surprisingly regularly and giving me the sordid details of his sex life, whether I wanted to read about it or not. I wasn’t in the least surprised to hear, about a year after he’d returned to the US, that he’d put a bun in some bird’s oven who he’d met at college. I think he was at what we’d have called university by then.
Much to my surprise I learnt that Joe was going to do the right thing by her and he invited me over to the States to be his best man at the nuptials. As, back then, I couldn’t afford the airfare, Joe’s father – who had some influence with the US forces – fixed it for me to travel on a US army transport plane, FOC as far as I was concerned. I was to fly back two weeks later, the same way.
I’d been surprised by the invite, because, as I said, where women were concerned Joe was a complete arsehole and I’d expected him to cut and run. Look, just because I liked the bloke, it doesn’t mean that I liked or agreed with his attitude towards women.
Mind you, I figured that Joe had fallen on his feet when taken up with Winnie (Gwendolyn). Talk about wet dream, the girl was absolutely gorgeous. Long blond hair, a beautiful face and figure, and what I thought was a wonderful personality. Yeah, well, there was a slight protrusion in her stomach that was just beginning to show, but that would only be there for a few months, wouldn’t it? I know that I would never have kicked her out of bed in a hurry. I do believe that I was envious of the man, for the first time in my life.
As I said, I thought Winnie’s personality, was wonderful. She was very quiet and reserved, actually not really Joe’s type at all, but knowing Joe as I did, I doubt he was thinking about a long-term relationship when he took Winnie’s virginity.
Shit, if I’m being honest, had I been asked, I’d have changed places with Joe at that altar without a second’s thought. Winnie was the girl of my dreams.
I seemed to get on pretty well with everyone over there. I think most folks were fascinated by my accent, although my London colloquialisms appeared to cause some confusion on occasion.
Of course there was Joe’s Stag Night about a week before the wedding. The Yanks appear to refer to them as bachelor parties, by the way. Anyway the one for Joe – as I had assumed it would – featured several very questionable strippers and I’m pretty sure that Joe laid them at one time or another all during the evening. And maybe the bird that had been on reception at the hotel the party was held at as well. I can’t be positive, but when Joe vanished for a while and I went looking for him, no one was on reception and there was some familiar and curiously interesting noises coming from behind a locked door marked ‘Office’.
The wedding went off fine. Except for the fact that I knew Joe very well and I could see the lustful looks he was giving Winnie’s numerous bridesmaids. Personally, I was quite taken by one of them myself and, as she was giving me the old googly eyes bit, I thought I might have a chance with her later. But I hadn’t figured Joe into that equation!
I don’t think the dancing had been started for more than ten minutes when Joe came over and asked me to dance with Winnie for a while. ‘Do me a favour, Ray, and keep the little lady occupied for a while. I got something I got to do,’ Joe said to me.
Like a complete moron, I assumed that Joe had some kind of a surprise that he was setting up for Winnie. It was only when he didn’t reappear for half an hour or so and I realised that one of Winnie’s bridesmaids was also missing that it struck me what Joe was really up to.
I do believe he pulled the same stunt with his younger brother about an hour or so later and using a cousin of his later still.
Well, that fucked my chances (literally) with the bridesmaid that I fancied, because I never was partial to following anyone else down the highway of pleasure. Especially if they were as promiscuous as Joe was. Christ knows what you could pick up. Although AIDS wasn’t around back then. Well, we’d never heard of it anyway.
I seemed to spend quite a bit of time in Winnie and her family’s company that evening, as I had done for most of the time I’d been over there. Although I’d told Joe that I wasn’t covering for any more of his exploits after I’d realised what he’d pulled the first time he’d asked me to dance with Winnie.
Winnie’s father was a great bloke. He’d spent a lot of time in the UK with the USAF and we seemed to get on quite well. It was pretty obvious to me that he wasn’t keen on Joe and possibly had a good idea just how much of a little shit Joe could be.
Winnie’s mother seemed to spend a lot of the evening crying. Whether because she thought she was losing a daughter, or because she had a good idea about Joe’s true personality, I don’t know and didn’t ask.
Winnie herself was obviously crazy about Joe. You know for a lot of the time I really wished that I’d refused to go to that wedding. My conscience was telling me that Joe was never going to change, and she was in for a big disappointment when she eventually found out about his character and exploits.
I had three days in the US after the wedding before I was due to fly home again. Joe and Winnie had gone off on honeymoon somewhere, so at first I thought I was going to be at a bit of a loose end. But of all people, Winnie’s sister Tammy and her boyfriend came to my rescue. Although at the time I’ll admit that I thought that they were looking to make some kudos with her friends by having this English bloke along with them.
Tammy introduced me to her friend Sam and the two of us hit it off like a house on fire. Now hold on, there’s no point in not being completely honest here. Sam and I shagged away most of my last three days in the States. I had to wonder why I hadn’t hooked up with her earlier in the trip, Sam had been around all the time.
My only surprise was how hard it w
as to lay my hands on a re-supply of condoms in their small town. The other thing that shook me was that you weren’t supposed to drink until you were twenty-one. Christ, you can legally drink in pubs in the UK from the age of eighteen and I’d been frequenting them since before I’d turned sixteen. Depends on how old you look whether you get challenged and thrown out.
Mind you, I thought American beer was crap. Most of it sterilised chilled, and had a head put on it with CO2. Back in those days all English beer was cask conditioned and sold at cellar temperature. Did you know the colder beer is, the less your taste-buds work, so they can serve you up with any crap that they fancy?
Not surprisingly, British pubs went the same way as the American bars a few years later, when the big mutli-nationals took over all of the breweries and using TV advertising, pushed the lager habit big time. Never mind the quality, look at the alcoholic content became the watchword, and they wonder why we have all these lager louts around nowadays. Those wankers wouldn’t know the flavour of a good beer if you gave them one.
Anyway I’ve digressed, where was I? Oh yeah, Tammy’s friend Sam. Well, Sam and I hit it off quite good together. Sam was never in Winnie’s class. I’m taking about the chemistry that Winnie had stirred up in my loins here, she was a real looker. But beggars can’t be choosers and what with Joe’s antics over the proceeding week, my hormones were giving me some real strife.
To be fair Sam was a really nice girl and, had she lived in the UK, I think it could have led to something more than the three day shagging marathon that it was. We wrote to each other for a while after I got back. There was some talk of her coming over to the UK or me even going back over there for a visit, but neither happened in the long term. In the end, the time lapse between her letters got longer and longer, until Sam just didn’t write back one time.
Surprisingly, over the next couple of years, I’d get the odd letter from Tammy. It was she who informed me that Winnie had given birth to a little girl. And just over a year later, Winnie had a second one. And of course I got Christmas cards for a few years from Winnie and Joe. They usually had a brief ‘keep me up to date’ note in them, but that was all.
Then quite suddenly it all went quiet. I kept sending my Christmas cards to Joe and Winnie, and for some reason to Tammy and her husband as well, at least Tammy always sent one back. But she never mentioned her sister or Joe in the accompanying notes. I was to hear no more about Joe or Winnie for nigh on eight or nine years.
As I went through my early twenties, I had my fair share of girlfriends, I even shacked up with a couple of them, for a while. But by the time I was twenty-nine, I’d become convinced that marriage wasn’t in the cards for me. None of the women that I ever met seemed to match up to the picture that I had in my mind of a wife. Although exactly what that picture was, I didn’t really know.
It was in 1972 that things began to change, although I didn’t know it at the time. A friend and I were on holiday in Venice, Italy of all places. I don’t why I like Italy so much, but I’d been there quite a few times before.
The two of us were sitting at an outside café in St Marks Square knocking back what the Italians call beer. ‘Beera, big one!’ was how we used to order it. Our hands gesturing to an imaginary glass about three feet tall. Then two ice cold one litre (or maybe bigger) glass jugs would appear on the table, probably at a horrendously inflated price. But anyone who can remember Italian money back then will know that everything was priced in what seemed like hundreds of thousand of Liras.
Vince, the bloke I was travelling with, and I were attempting – pretty unsuccessfully, I think – to chat up two Swiss – or maybe they were German – women who were sitting on the next table. Vince, regretfully didn’t have the same bullshitting talents as Joe when it came to women, maybe that’s why he was still single at thirty-five.
Anyway we weren’t really watching what was going on around us. So when someone asked, ‘Would you be so kind as to take a photograph for us?’ In a vaguely familiar American accent, it was with some surprise that I realised the question was directed at me.
I turned around to see who had made the request and was completely gobsmacked to see Sam standing there grinning back at me.
‘Bloody Hell Sam, where did you spring from?’ I exclaimed, as I jumped out of my seat put took her in my arms and kissed her. Almost immediately noting that Sam didn’t exactly return the kiss with enthusiasm.
Actually she seemed quite embarrassed. Well so was I, when she introduced me to her husband, who was standing off to the side grinning at us. Luckily for me, Jake had been a friend of Tammy and Sam’s way back when Joe got married and he seemed to know that Sam and I had had a little fling at the time.
‘Sorry to disappoint you buddy, but I laid my brand on Sam some time back.’ Jake grinned at me.
We then dropped into a humorous exchange, where I accused him of stealing the love of my life from me. He took it in good heart and we finished up with Sam looking even more embarrassed than she had when I’d kissed her. Jake and I hit it off straight away, it turned out that we had a very similar sense of humour.
The two Swiss birds were forgotten from then on, as Sam, Jake and I dropped into small talk about everyone that I had met in the US. And of course the subject of Joe and Winnie came up. Sam said that they lasted about six years before Winnie finally realised that Joe was not going to change his ways and they separated.
Joe had joined the services somewhere along the line. I had never taken Joe for the military type, but thinking on it, both Joe and Winnie’s fathers had been in the services, so I suppose it stood to reason.
‘Joe’s a damned good father though.’ Sam added. ‘As a husband he was a real asshole to Winnie. But you can’t fault him on the way he dotes on those two girls of his.’
‘When he’s in the country!’ Jake said sarcastically. But that seemed to go over Sam’s head, well, she ignored it anyway.
‘Oh, yeah, Joe’s out in Vietnam most of the time nowadays,’ Sam explained. ‘But Winnie’s never short of money, god knows where Joe gets it all from.’
‘Probably he runs a Saigon brothel for all the other servicemen out there. That’s about his mark.’ Jake offered. I got the feeling Jake didn’t like Joe.
‘So how have things been going with you since we last heard from each other?’ Sam asked, probably to change the subject. ‘Did you ever get married?’
I went on to give them an extremely brief and extremely sketchy run down on the last few years of my life. Then we made plans to meet for dinner that evening.
I was to discover from Jake later that Joe had tried to seduce Sam a few times. Sam had always taken Joe’s attempts as a joke, but Jake knew better and had had to keep a close eye on the pair of them. Not because he didn’t trust Sam, but Joe was quite an expert and Sam could be so dammed naive sometimes.
—————————–
‘Jesus, she’s something,’ Vince remarked, after we’d seen Sam and Jake onto the Waterbus back to their hotel.
‘You’re not kidding. We only spent three days together and my bleeding balls ached for at least a week when I had to fly home and leave her,’ I replied.
‘Jesus, Ray, how did you let her get away?’
‘Look, mate, she was on one side of the world and I was on the other and, well, when a girl’s got a sexual appetite like Sam’s… Jake was local, wasn’t he?’
‘Can’t say I can blame the bugger,’ Vince said.
‘Neither can I. I think Sam fell on her feet there though. He sure seems like a really good bloke to me.’
‘Better than that mate of yours, what was his name, Joe?’ Vince suggested.
‘Yeah, Joe is a complete arsehole, alwa
ys was. But he was just one of those characters, you just had to like him,’ I said.
‘I’ll believe you, but from what Sam and Jake had to say about him, I’d say thousands wouldn’t,’ Vince commented.
————————-
At first Vince wasn’t going to join Sam, Jake and me for dinner that evening. Although, as he had sod all else to do and it was the first that time he’d been out of the UK. I think he was a little hesitant to go out around Venice on his own, so in the end he decided to come along. I do believe it was possibly the best decision that he made in his life.
Sam and Jake turned up at the restaurant with Cyn in tow. Cynthia was your typical American tourist, or unfortunately, what is often taken for the typical American. She was/is very um… outspoken, and extremely loud. Anyone and everyone in that restaurant, who could vaguely understand English, soon learnt that Cynthia was a thirty-something-year-old war widow. Her husband had been one of the first US advisors to be sent out to Vietnam and he’d returned home less than two months later to claim his personal spot in Arlington cemetery. Cynthia had three children and her father owned a print shop, where she apparently worked, or drove everyone nuts.
I think during the meal Cynthia did almost all of the talking, hind legs off Donkey style. I’m not sure who’s idea it was later to take an evening gondola ride, but somehow Sam, Jake and myself finished up in one boat, whilst Vince and Cynthia got into another. And that was the last that I was to see of Vince until the last day of the holiday. As I understand it, he and Cynthia married a few months later and he now manages her father’s print shop in some small midwest town somewhere.
Apparently whilst Sam and I had been chatting earlier in the day, Vince had told Jake that he worked in printing in London and Jake had played matchmaker. It was a long shot, but it worked out well for Cynthia and Vince.
I spent the rest of my holiday playing gooseberry to Sam and Jake, but they didn’t seem to mind. I knew Venice quite well and took them to a few places that I doubt they would have found without me.
When I got back home, letters stuffed with photographs of Sam and Jake and their children started to turn up with regularity. After a while some pictures of Tammy, her husband and their children showed up as well. Then finally some of Winnie and her and Joe’s two girls, along with a little note from Winnie saying that she was so pleased to hear that I was doing okay.
I suppose it was in the early spring 1973 when I received a letter from Sam telling me that she and Jake were planning on bringing their children over to the UK for their family vacation that year. I’d bought myself a fairly reasonable sized house by then, and invited them to stay with me. I think I was just slightly offended when the offer was turned down.
At first, I took even more affront, when they refused my offer to collect them from the airport and take them to their hotel. But then in another letter Sam mentioned that the party they would be with would be far too large for a single car. It was then that I realised that either Sam or Jake’s parents, or perhaps both, must be coming with them and that explained them refusing my offer of accommodation as well.
Sam called me on the telephone the moment they got to their hotel and invited me to join them for a formal breakfast the following morning. As previously arranged I’d taken a couple of weeks off of work to be available to act as a local guide to their party. I gladly accepted the offer of breakfast, but I was not at all prepared for what greeted me when the waiter led me to the table Jake had arranged. It was bloody massive, I think you could have sat a football team around it.
Shortly I saw Jake and Sam leading a quite large entourage in my direction, as they got close I stood to greet them and this time it was Sam who took me in her arms and kissed me full on the lips.
‘Take it easy, girl. Didn’t Jake tell me he was a crack shot with a thirty-eight the last time I saw you?’ I whispered in her ear. I’d been sent plenty of pictures of Jake with his shooting trophies.
Nadine
- 26.09.2022
- 33
- 0
