Jessie & The Tornado Ch. 02

"It always bothered me . . . I mean I knew I had the smallest breasts of any girl in school, and it had always bothered me.

"The entire time they were . . . they were raping me . . . they were also making fun of my breasts. One said I must be president of the itty-bitty-titty club, and another said if I ever got pregnant my kids would starve to death. Another said his 10-year-old sister had bigger boobs than I did, and another said '10-year-old sister,' hell, his 12-year-old brother had bigger boobs than I did.

"I was afraid . . . afraid that if you saw them again you would start laughing also," Debbie admitted.

This time it was my turn to sit up in bed.

"Deborah Ann," I started, and her eyes opened wide because the only times I had ever called her that was on those few occasions I was really mad at her.

"Deborah Ann, if you believe ANYTHING those worthless, low-life scumbags said to you, and if you ever again doubt how much I love you . . . ALL OF YOU including your breasts . . . then . . . then I'll TURN YOU OVER MY KNEE and give you a . . . a SPANKING! DO YOU HEAR ME?"

I actually can't recall ever being so mad at Debbie. And as I was saying what I was saying, and as my voice got louder and louder . . . well she just started smiling at me.

Then smiling even bigger and bigger, Debbie sat up in bed. She reached down to the hem of her t-shirt and pulled it over her head, and then took both her hands and cupped her breasts and started rubbing her thumb over the nipples!

Have you ever tried to stay mad when the woman you love is teasing you like that? Then she got up on her knees and leaned in until one of her nipples was brushing against my lips.

"Oh hell," I finally said, "I'll think about spanking you later."

I took the proffered breast in my mouth and start sucking. And unlike a few minutes earlier, not softly. Debbie gasped and put her hands around the back of my head and held me tightly against her.

Incredibly, as hard as I was sucking (which was much harder than I had ever dared to in the past), I heard Debbie say, "Harder, suck harder!" Who was I to argue?

In a few minutes, I switched breasts and Debbie gasped again as I latched on to her other nipple.

"Harder, harder," I heard her say. By now she had one hand between her legs and I knew she was fingering herself.

Suddenly, she cried as a small orgasm racked her body.

"What are you doing to me?" she finally gasped.

"Trying to show you how much I love you . . . and your breasts," I answered.

I leaned backward, pulling her along with me until Debbie was straddling my midsection. I could feel how wet she was against my stomach.

I reached under her thighs with both hands until I could cup her tiny butt in my hands. Then I simply picked her up. Debbie was so tiny, and I doubt she weighed more than 100 pounds.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

I gave her my most menacing and mysterious smile.

"Before, well that was just an appetizer! Now I am going to eat you up!"

She smiled, and then as my intent became clear, as I held her just over my face, she said, "Oh, Sam. We've never done it like this before."

When I lowered her onto my waiting lips and tongue, she managed to cry out my name a few times, but before long all she could do was make meaningless sounds.

I don't know how many orgasms Debbie had, but eventually she began to beg, "Oh, stop Sam, I can't stand it."

When I ceased my relentless assault on her vagina, Debbie said, "Now I want you inside me again."

She slid down until she could reach behind her and grab my now rock-hard penis.

She gasped, turned around and gasped again.

"Oh My God, I had THAT inside me?"

"Sam, you are SO much bigger now -- everywhere."

Although I could see some doubt in her eyes, Debbie positioned herself over me, and ever so slowly lowered herself onto me.

As soon as the head of my penis parted her, Debbie began a litany of "so big, so big, so big," but never stopped. At least not until I was completely inside her.

"Sam, I don't ever want to move! I want to feel you inside me like this forever."

Despite her words, after a few minutes, Debbie raised herself upward an inch or so, then pushed back down. She gasped.

Then did it again, and again, each time raising herself slightly higher.

Before long, she was twisting her hips in addition to raising herself, then impaling herself onto to me.

I honestly don't know how many orgasms she had this time before I could no longer hold it and flooded her insides with my cum.

Debbie just slowly collapsed onto my chest. I think she may have been asleep again before her head hit my chest. And I don't think I was more than a minute or two behind her. My semi-flaccid penis was still inside her.

Again I think I slept for about an hour.

When I woke up, I realized I really, really needed to go to the bathroom, so I eased Debbie off of me and onto the bed.

I got up carefully, so as to not awaken her, and headed for the hall bathroom.

As I was washing my hands, I heard Debbie scream, "Sam? Sam?"

I ran back into my room, and Debbie was sitting up and calling my name.

When she saw me, she started crying, "Oh Sam, I woke up and you were gone. I thought you had left me."

I assured her I would never leave her, and we snuggled together again with her head on my chest.

"What do you want to do the rest of the day?" she asked with a big smile.

"Well, first I think we need to have a little fun. I really appreciate how our parents apparently conspired to bring us together, but I also think it is time for a little payback."

I grabbed my cell phone from the nightstand and called my Mom. I had already told Debbie to be very quiet, and when Mom answered I pushed the speakerphone button.

"Hi, Mom, how is the shopping going?"

"Oh, great Sam, how are you doing? Oh, wait, let me put this on speakerphone so . . . so your Dad can hear also."

"I'm doing pretty well, although it is kind of boring being here all by myself."

I could hear the disappointment in her voice as my Mom asked, "Boring? Didn't anything happen this morning, or anyone come by?"

"No, it has been very quiet . . . Oh wait. Now that you mention it, after I finished mowing I was taking a shower and thought I heard someone knocking. By the time I got out of the shower and dried off, and put some clothes on, no one was at the door. Were you expecting someone Mom?"

I could hear someone in the background whisper, "I'll call her."

I looked at Debbie, and she silently mouthed, "My Mom."

"Well, you just never know who might drop by Sam. Listen, are you going to be at home the rest of the day, Honey?" she asked.

"Well, that is one of the reasons I am calling. I am already packed, and thought I would head to the mountains for a few days, go visit Grandpa's old cabin. I haven't been up there in about four or five years and can do some fishing. I'll probably be back sometime Sunday, so we'll still have two weeks left of my leave." Debbie was barely able to suppress her laughter.

"NO!" Mom yelled. "Uhh, I mean I don't think that is a good idea. The old cabin is in really bad shape."

"That's funny, when I asked Dad about it a few days ago he said he had just been up there and everything was fine."

I might not have been able to see, and might not have been able to hear it, but I could sure sense the glare Mom was giving Dad right now. Debbie is having to keep one hand over her mouth to keep from laughing.

"Son," Dad finally said, "actually it's not that good. Lots of little things need to be worked on."

"Don't worry Dad, I should be able to fix it up in no time."

"Sam," my mother began again, "I really don't want you going up there. It's so far away, and what if something happens? Cell phones usually don't work up in the mountains."

"Hey Mom, I'm just going to the mountains, not back to Iraq! I'll be fine."

By now, Mom is getting desperate to come up with some good excuse to keep me from leaving.

"Sam, I mean it. I don't want you going up there by yourself. Do you hear me?"

"Really, it will be okay Mom. Beside I won't be going by myself. I will take one of the neighborhood kids with me."

"Neighborhood kids? What neighborhood kid?"

"Oh, you might remember her. Her name is Debbie!"

I heard my mother gasp out loud, then heard whispering in the background. "Debbie? Did he say Debbie?"

After a prolonged silence, Mom finally started talking again, only now I could tell she was trying to use her most menacing voice, rather unsuccessfully though:

"Samuel Obediah Walker! You might think you are some hot-shot Marine, and you might be a lot taller, and outweigh me by 50 or 60 pounds, but I am still your Mama, and I can still turn you over my knee and give your backside a good tanning!"

Debbie completely lost it at that point, bursting into laughter and so did I.

"Debbie? Is that you Debbie?" I heard her mother say.

"Hi Mom."

"Debbie, are you okay? Is everything good now?" her Mom continued.

"Oh Mom, it is a lot better than good."

Debbie looked at me and blushed.

"In fact it is even better than you said it would be! It was magical!"

Oh wow, I couldn't wait to hear that story!

"Sam, are you serious about you and Debbie going to the cabin, or is this your way of making us age 10 years?"

"Actually, when I called I was just kind of making it up, but now that I think about it, I don't know there is any place I would rather be than alone in a cabin with Debbie for a few days."

We looked at each other, and both blushed.

After several more minutes of conversation, both sets of parents gave us their blessings for the trip and we bid each other goodbye.

We were just starting to get dressed when something occurred to me:

"Oh crap Debs, I forgot to put on a condom that last time!"

Debbie assured it wasn't necessary, since she had been taking birth control pills since shortly after her miscarriage.

It really only took about 10 minutes for me to pack what I would need for a few days, so we drove over to Debbie's house. Of course it took her a lot longer. Actually, I might have been partially responsible for that since Debbie said she wanted to take a shower before leaving, and I, of course, joined her.

That shower ended up with us making love again, and then we had to take a shower from that shower to get cleaned up before we finally left.

Eventually, we did get on the road for the five-hour drive to the cabin, stopping at a grocery store for essentials.

Those days were some of the most wonderful of my life. Of OUR life.

I think Debbie and I made love about 10 times a day, and each time it was just better.

I woke up every morning with my Debbie's mouth wrapped around me, and she insisted on "finishing the job" with her mouth. I would, of course, return the favor.

By the time we returned Sunday night, I had asked, and Debbie had said "Yes!" We were now engaged to be married. Both Moms cried! Actually, both Debbie and I were crying when we told them.

I still had two years left on my hitch in the Marine Corps, and Debbie still had two years of college left, so we set our wedding for July of the following year. Of course neither of us had considered the plans the Marines had for me, so nine months later when I received orders for a return engagement to Iraq, we immediately got married.

My second tour ended one month before my discharge. By the time I was discharged, Debbie had her degree in accounting (honor graduate and tops in her class), and had applied for an accounting position with one of the big national accounting firms with offices in Charlotte.

I applied for jobs with the police and fire departments in Charlotte and actually had been accepted by both. The fire department acceptance came back first, so that is how I found myself as a fireman, and later Certified First Responder. I also continued my medical training and completed the EMT-Basic course, and followed that with additional courses to be certified as an EMT-Paramedic.

Debbie was actually hired at a salary nearly double what I was making, and progressed upward through the ranks of her company until, four years later, she was a senior account manager. By now, her pay had more than doubled from her initial salary.

Shortly after moving to Charlotte, we bought a house off the foreclosure market for $200,000. I had saved most of my salary while in the Marine Corps, so we used that to make a substantial down payment. It was an older, large house that was -- quite frankly -- in desperate need of some TLC. Because of my schedule, 24 hours on, 48 hours off, I was able to completely remodel the inside, and install all new siding on the outside. I also landscaped the outside.

Two years later, we sold that house for nearly double what we had paid.

We immediately turned around and bought an even bigger house that had sat vacant for over two years. The owners were so desperate to sell we only paid $250,000.

I again worked my magic and within two years it was a showplace.

Then Debbie was offered the opportunity to take over as manager of a branch of her company near Atlanta. If she accepted, her salary would be doubled again.

We finally decided to accept, and quickly sold our second home in Charlotte for a little over $400,000.

I started putting out feelers for job openings for firemen in the Atlanta area, and found one county advertising for trained firemen and EMTs. I applied and was hired by that county so we started looking for a house on Atlanta's Southside.

We found a rather run-down house in a very nice and rather expensive neighborhood, and bought it, paying cash. The house had a large front yard, and an absolutely enormous back yard. In the back a small stream cut through the property. It looked almost exactly like the stream behind our parent's homes in North Carolina.

The house was only about 10 minutes from Debbie's office, but nearly an hour drive for me. That wasn't really that big a deal, since I would still be working 24 hours on, and 48 hours off.

I was SO glad to get out of the apartment we had been renting for the past three months.

Two weeks after we bought the house, Debbie and I were getting ready to take a long weekend trip back to North Carolina to see our parents. We had planned that I would drive Debs to work that Friday, have the oil changed in her brand new Mercedes (first oil change since we bought it) and I would pick her up at work around noon and we would immediately head out.

Debbie and I were both excited because we would be eating Friday night at our favorite barbecue restaurant in North Carolina. One of the big disappointments about Georgia was the fact we had not found a single place in Atlanta that served decent barbeque!

Almost every week we had been in Georgia we would try a different restaurant, but nothing even began to come close to North Carolina-style barbeque. Shortly after moving to Georgia we both made the mistake of ordering something called "Brunswick Stew" at one restaurant, which the waiter assured us was the specialty of the house and went perfectly with barbeque. It was horrible!

But on Friday night, we would be dining at "The Old Hickory BBQ" restaurant in our hometown.

Unfortunately, after I had completed my 24-hour shift, I had to work another 12 hours since one of the other firemen called out. I actually didn't get home until well after midnight. Debs knew how tired I was, and just let me sleep that morning. She was extra quiet when she got ready for work, and didn't wake me up before she left.

When I finally woke up, there was a note from Debs saying she was taking my truck to work, and that after I got the oil changed in the Mercedes, I could pick her up and just leave my pickup at her work place.

My drive to work included driving on some of the most congested and dangerous highways in Atlanta, while most of Debbie's drive was on quieter streets.

According to the police report, the red light had changed and Debbie had just entered an intersection when a tractor-trailer t-boned the pickup right on the driver's side.

She was, they say, killed instantly, and probably never even knew what happened.

While I had been sleeping that morning on August 15th . . . Debbie was already dead.

I had only been up for about 10 minutes, just long enough to read her note about letting me sleep and once again thanking my lucky stars for someone who loved me and that I loved so much, when my doorbell rang.

I think as soon as I saw my captain, along with the fire department chaplain, I knew.

I was devastated. I think -- no, I know -- we loved each other even more now than when we were first married.

The only downside to our marriage was our inability to have children. Debbie had gotten pregnant twice, and had twice had miscarriages, but we were still trying.

We had a memorial service in Atlanta so that Debbie's co-workers could pay their respects, but the actual funeral was held back in North Carolina, in our hometown. I think half the county must have attended, along with a lot of my old Marine Crops buddies from Iraq. After the funeral, I spent another week in North Carolina, but knew I had to get away for a while. There were just too many memories associated with that state for me to live there . . . at least for a while.

I returned to my now empty house in Georgia, and resumed working for the local fire department. I also bought a new truck to replace the one Debbie was killed in while driving.

Now, for the first time in years, I was all alone again.

And was blaming myself for Debbie's death!

If only I hadn't slept late that final morning.

If only I had gotten up like we had planned.

If only I had been driving.

If only . . . If only . . . If only . . .

About a month after Debbie was killed, I was responding to another traffic accident. In this accident, a truck ran a red light, t-boning another vehicle and killing the driver.

A young, and very pretty girl with long red hair. As I was looking at this broken young girl, lying dead at my feet . . . I just lost it.

I attacked the driver of the truck (he was drunk) and if the other firemen and a couple of policemen hadn't pulled me off . . . I might have killed him. That was how enraged I was.

The fire department ordered me to begin counseling with a psychologist. For three months I had twice-weekly sessions, where I learned to handle my grief, and finally managed not to blame myself for Debbie's death.

In the months that followed, I found out what an incredible planner she had been. Shortly after starting work, Debbie had insisted on us both having fairly large insurance policies. We were both insured for $500,000.

What I didn't know was that her company also automatically provided life insurance equal to her salary, which by now was well over $400,000 a year, not including bonuses. Debbie also took advantage of the option to buy additional company insurance that was equal to three times her base salary.

One day I received a check for over $1.8 million! Together, with the regular insurance we had, plus all the money we had saved from her salary, and the money we had made off the sales of the houses, I now had enough money that I really didn't need to work. I just could invest the money and probably live off the interest.

But would that really be living? Sitting around and feeling sorry for myself?

After I finished the counseling, I started really pouring myself into my job. Maybe if I worked hard enough and long enough . . . well maybe I would finally not find myself crying nearly every night.

I said I had learned how to handle the grief . . . not that the grief was no longer there.

Since Debbie had been killed only two weeks after we moved into our new house, most of the moving boxes had not even been unpacked.