Tara of Vietnam

"Feel good?" I whisper nibbling at her sweet-tasting earlobe.

"Mmmm, yes," is her breathy and barely auditable response. She rolls over on her back, expression dreamy, adoring eyes glass-like. Once I'm astride her, she leans forward taking just my cock-head into her mouth. The sweeping sensation of her lips forces my eyes to close. Ripples of numbing pleasure overwhelm all conscious thought. With one strong suck, I feel her mouth slide off. Her fingers surround both breasts. Squeezing gently, she cones them upward.

"Suck me, Jim Becker. Oooooooh, my nipples ache. Suck on them -- pleeeease?"

Nipple-tips brush against my lips. The rough nub pops into my mouth. She gasps. Her naked tummy falls deep. A leg trembles. Nipple-skin stiffens. I suck. A syrup-like taste flows. Roughness slips and slides. I suck harder, working one nipple, and then following the push of her hands, go after the other.

"Ohhh-ahhhh," she cries softly with each sucking pull. Her fingers knead blood-hardened breast-flesh. Her eyes clamp shut. It's as if she's willing, forcing the sugary secretion into my siphoning mouth.

Leaving her breasts to her hands, I scrunch down her heaving abdomen. Her navel is deep and inviting. Stomach muscles tighten as my tongue swabs the rim, and then circles its inner walls. Puckering, I blow gently. She squirms. Abdominal muscles clench tighter as the soft, tickling jet of air trails down her trembling slope of belly-skin. Pussy-lips are wide-open, dripping with diamond-like dewdrops. She shudders as the arrow-like air stream rotates in casual circles. Her legs widen. The point of her pinkish clitoris peaks out. It's hesitant, yet moving, as if begging for attention. My first lick is gentle. Her whole body snaps tight as high-tension wire about to arc.

"Yes, oh-my-yessss -- yes," she squeaks through deep, thundering breaths. "More - oh more, please lick me more."

Against my tongue, her pussy naked mound feels soft as a newborn's cheeks. There's not a trace of hair stubble. Her legs spread farther, and then rise. Her clit, now fully extended, trembles at the touch of my tongue. Her thigh muscles clamp tight, encompassing my entire head. The next lick is intense. A side-to-side motion widens Tara's sweet-smelling folds. Hips jerk. She groans with pleading pleasure squeals as I revisit the tender skin surrounding her pulsing anus. My tongue touches her slick opening. Her pussy reacts as though a tiny jolt of electricity has touched it. Tongue fully extended, I slowly widen her velvety skin, and then push in as far as I can. She shrieks softly. Love muscles grab on. The grasp is vice-tight. I try to withdraw. She won't let go. Something's tickling and stroking my bottom lip. Muscles relax. My tongue slips free. Swallowing her juices, I raise my head and gaze down at her beautiful face. Like a roused tiger, strong hands grip my shoulders, pulling my face to hers.

"Oh Jim-Jim-Jim," she gasps. "I need you in me, oh I need it in my special hole."

Tara's body feels like an all-encompassing cloud. A tug on my neck locks her mouth to mine. Her entire length freezes. I feel her hand sliding around my blazing cock. It pulses. She's moving my cock-head vertically on her pussy lips. The grip isn't soft or teasing. No longer is it foreplay. She's struggling, as if every brain cell, every muscle molecule is strung tight and unable to wait. Although overwhelmed with selfish needs, I'm determined to make entry slow. An incredible woman like Tara deserves to soak up every nuance of this golden moment. My hand grips hers. Arm muscles struggle.

"Let me?" I whisper.

Her hand releases. "Now?"

"Yes Tara, now."

One hand clings fiercely to my shoulder. Another grips the back of my neck.

A gush of wetness floods around my cock. My hips push. Her pussy swallows. Arms, hands slide over my sweaty skin -- then grip like a clamp. Her teeth clench. The sound of her ravenous gasps nearly overpowers the pounding rain.

"Oh-plea--." Breath catches in her throat.

There's a muffled rapturous, yet straining cry. My eyes snap wide as powerful pussy lips grab on. Tara's commanding muscles pull. In a mind-bending suckle an inch enters. Like firing off a blasting cap, swarming multitudes of pleasure-shocks explode in every nerve I have. Jesus, something - something is moving. It's-it's tickling at the tip of my cock. The feeling sends my mind spinning like a buzz-bomb. Entry has never felt like this. Can the point of her clit be stroking, tantalizing, as if it's welcoming me? Physical desire suddenly grabs on with the jerk of a hydraulic ram. My muscles tense. They are vibrating, threatening to implode. Tara's hands grab my hips. Her pussy spews out another slippery gush. My ass-cheeks split as she yanks hard, guiding, forcing the effortless, downward plunge. Her clit wiggles across my entire length as pussy muscles consume my cock pulling hard - high - and very deep.

"Ahhhh," Tara sighs, body relaxing as if propelled into a swirling, heaven-like world.

Tara's pussy feels like no other. Her walls shrink, gripping on tighter than an undersized glove. There's something else. Just what, is as mysterious as this crazy dream -- a dream that is just as real as the Vietnamese jungle and the swishing sound of rain on jungle vegetation.

"Love me Jim," she whispers. "Love me hard."

Wet lips cover mine. Cottony pleasure swirls as I seesaw back, holding my cock just inside her. In my mouth, her wet tongue slides out, mimicking the movement. Damn, if I can't feel her clit curling. With each plunging stroke, it's moving, caressing my cock like a warm, wet, wiggling finger.

"Yes-o-yes," she cries as I plunge in again. Holding to her deepest inner walls, I arch my back, lifting my chest from her glistening breasts. Her clit wiggles. My lips go for a thrusting, rolling nipple. In two tries, I grab on, sucking like a man who's dying of thirst sucks on a clogged straw.

"Yes-o-yes-oh-yes," she says in low guttural rasps. She pulls in breath, holding it in, waiting, and anticipating my next deep thrust. Air gushes from her lungs as I push down. The nipple bursts free.

"Roll over," she rasps. "Let me?"

Rocking my hips, I pull out, and then turn over on my back. It's as if passion is suddenly ignited like the blue flame of a welder's torch. She's on me in a second. Above, her hands cup both breasts, squeeze them, then release them to their own weight. I feel her hand guiding my cock back in. As I hold Tara's soft waist, she uses short movements, lifting, revolving, and settling my cock deeper and deeper into the depths of her subterranean self. Travel across her incredible, wiggling clitoris is as overwhelming as it is bizarre. She rises, lowers, in, out, in out, faster and faster. Tara's soft little cries mirror each stroke. Devastating ecstasy swings her head from side to side. Chunks of sweet-smelling hair slap at my face. She stops, gasping for air. The moment presents time to relish this astonishing, energetic beauty. Tara is absorbing every possible erotic nuance. In contrast, fucking Janet is like screwing a reluctant statue. As echoes of our sex squabbles spin into foggy oblivion, I clutch at Tara's willing body. I can prolong this no longer. Together, we roll over. Blind, animal instinct seizes all senses. There's but one target, one goal. Giving Tara's glorious, loving, sucking pussy the biggest, most satisfying orgasm she's ever had.

My tip is lingering, just in her. Tara's hips rise, and then settle. Her pussy is impulsively demanding, using that astonishing sucking talent to yank and snatch at every centimeter. Each plunging stroke is distinctive. She's loose and loving for a moment, then suddenly tight as a vice. Her pulling pressure is enormous. With a thundering heartbeat, my cock thickens. Her fingernails claw at my back. Pressure sucks my cock in like a vacuum cleaner stuck on high. Oxygen bursts from her lips as my chest falls to hers. Breast skin feels hard and sweat-slick. Mashed to my chest, her nipples expand and contract as her lungs gasp at air. Brute force holds my cock deep in her inner womb. Slowly, she undulates, teasing my chest hair with her stone-hard nipples. An uncontrolled, throaty groan explodes from my mouth. I have to shake my head to decipher her magic. Sucking pressure is one thing. What incredible feats of bodily control allow her to move her clitoris laterally? She releases. I pull out, then growl, pushing in again, deeper, slowly allowing her amazing gift to bring the impending, effervescent climax closer and closer.

"Yes-yes," she pants breathlessly, body shuddering from head to toes. Her legs curl around my back and lock on hard. "Oh yes Jim, do me, do me. Fill me, flood my pussy with cum. Yes, I want it now-now-now."

"Tara. Tara-Tara, oh Tara," I pant, pumping her feverously.

"Jim-Jim-yes-yes. Fuck me, love me, fuck me, yes love me. Oh-gracious-yes, fuck me deeper. Good, righttttt, thereeee. Oh, fuck fuck fuck, I love-love-love it."

Using her hips, she lifts, matching each driving, groaning, thumping, wild rhythm. Pussy pulls, releases, pulls, releases. It's in-out-pull-suck-pull-suck. My palms push against the mattress. Glistening, sweat-coated breasts stand like twin, trembling brown-tipped pinnacles. Like an archer drawing a bow, she bends. Her cunt clamps around my cock with the heat and power of a blacksmith's forge. Her lovely face melts into view. Lips tighten. Her forehead furrows, mind perhaps clawing for the orgasm bubble that's about to burst. Sweet pleasure-release is building in my every nerve -- every muscle, every gland. She screams with each belly-slapping plummet. Fingernails dig and scrape at my back. From deep in her throat, she spits out wild grunts, shrieks, moans, and groans, collapsing limp as a feather, body trembling in spasm after orgasmic spasm.

"More, Jim. Dammit, more-more!" Her voice is demanding. "Fuckin-a, fill me dammit, fill me!"

A galaxy of stars explodes. A potent force grabs my cock, slamming it, surrounding it with powerful contractions. Lights flicker out. Fireworks sparkle, and then burst, like bullet exploding a crystal vase. Suddenly, my body is flooded with wild pounds of drowning pleasure. Simultaneously, Tara's mighty love muscles convulse, pulling, extracting each pulsing, captivating, orgasmic spurt.

Tara's pleasure shrieks are as if a branding iron is singeing her beautiful skin. Each fiery surge lashes my body tighter to this sizzling, thrashing, orgasm-rich woman. Locked in each other's arms, we're tumbling down the deepest and darkest of wells. There are warm and glittering fragments - fragments that I, and perhaps her, will never forget.

Physically drained, yet passion still wonderfully alive, we come to a breathless yet peaceful rest. With a deep sigh, Tara's body relaxes, hips still undulating, taking pleasure in perhaps in each second of her ebbing delight.

"Ummmm," she coos, her half-shut eyes flickering like a gaslight with spent passion. Soft, sweat drenched breasts feel slick on my chest. Lips place a light and simple kiss on my mouth. My lips graze each eyelid, her nose and chin, then kiss the tip of each coffee-toned nipple. For five silky minutes, our minds and bodies remain cinched together, jointly sharing the smoothness of cooling perspiration, dwindling breaths, and the sibilant splash of the rain. Her clitoris, as if perhaps sheltered in these cozy moments, continues to tickle my cock with little pulsing wiggles.

"You were wonderful," she whispers in my ear.

"You're pretty wonderful yourself," I whisper back.

Her lips peck at anything reachable. Did I say Janet screws like a statue? Wrong figure of speech. By comparison, how about milk toast? I look into her eyes. "Tara?"

"Yes, Jim Becker?"

"If you ever want to drag someone through a swamp again, I'm your man."

She giggles softly. There's a slight sound of sorrow as she unfolds from my arms. There's a slurping sound. Immediately, I miss the warm feeling of her pussy hugging my cock. Sitting up, her long fingers smooth out her hair.

"How do you do it?" I say staring into her lovely and glowing face.

Her smile is impish. "Simple. I get naked, lie down and let you do all the work."

"Don't make jokes. You did something, something I've never felt before."

"Did you like it?"

"It felt amazing, like magic. You've got to tell me how you do it."

Reaching across the mattress, she squeezes my hand. She gets to her feet. Moonlight gleams off the pearl-white trails that are running down her lovely legs. "The rain has stopped, so let's go outside."

"Like this?"

"Sure, why not? It's a warm night and the trees won't mind."

Arms intertwined, we descend the stairs. Outside, the air smells rain-washed clean. Cool bluish moonlight splashes across the beauty I've been so fortunate to have explored and enjoyed. Part way across the moat, she stops. With Asian delicateness, she cleanses my cock. So good does it feel that I curl my toes in the mud. Placing a final kiss on the tip, she stands.

"Are you going to tell me what this is all about?" I ask grazing a nipple with my finger.

Tara takes a deep breath as if struggling with deeply buried emotions. "You do not know so many things. There are so many things that you have to feel. Walk with me?"

Hand in hand we wade through the moat and into the jungle.

The war-wrecks look eerie in the ghostly moonlight. As she'd done earlier, she's staring at that helicopter as if the wrecked machine has some sort of spiritual significance.

"How much do you know about your father and what happened to him?" she asks.

"Only that he flew helicopter gun-ships. In 1978, he just disappeared. Army's listed him as missing in action ever since. Not knowing the truth has been a nightmare. Then your father's letter came. I'm here to take his remains back to Virginia for burial. End of story."

"Not quite. You see, I owe my life to you Jim Becker."

"How so? We just met yesterday."

"Just listen as I speak the truth. War creates enemies and friends. Sergeant Minh Von Dong fought for the North, while Lieutenant Clifford Becker fought for the South. Circumstances brought them together in that helicopter over there. On that day in 1978, they were enemies turned friends. Together, they stole that helicopter and flew to Song Bo to rescue Vietnamese women and children burned by American napalm. A missile struck. Ground-fire shot my father's arm to pieces. There was an explosion, fire, crash, death. Lieutenant Clifford Becker pulled Minh Fon Dong out of the burning wreck and dragged him to that hooch over there to hide.

"Go on."

"Viet Cong come. They know of my father and his friendly relationship with Lieutenant Becker. Viet Cong have little compassion for their own countrymen who collaborate with the American enemy. That is why to this day, the police stalk my family and me constantly."

"So that's why that cop at the airport was so interested in us."

She nods. "To protect my father, Lieutenant Becker surrendered. Viet Cong tortured him for days. But he refused to reveal where Minh Von Dong was hiding. Your father was a very brave man."

"Stubborn too."

"They take him away to a prison camp Hanoi. There, he died a painful, dreadful death."

Tears are standing in her eyes, but not spilling over the lids. Warm naked breasts touch my chest. She rests her head on my upper arm.

"Tara, tell me the rest please?"

"Your father - he - he gave his life - so I might - live." Her voice stumbles, overwhelmed with emotion.

"Easy-easy, Tara. It's okay."

She grits her teeth to compose herself. "Do you understand?"

"I'm still confused."

"You see, without your father, Tara Fon Dong would never have been born. I would have no life, no love, no husband, no children, and no happiness. Such a dept can never be repaid to your father, so I choose you for the most precious gift I have to give."

We hold each other tight.

"Now you know the truth," she whispers.

I'm spent and speechless, even mute to her loving fingertips gently wiping away the tears from my cheeks while her other hand gently strokes my cock and testicles. Such a loving woman I have never known.

The ceremony in Loc Chao is poignant and uncomplicated. Tara's armless father watches proudly on as three monks present Tara with a like amount of mementos: Lieutenant Clifford Becker's jacket, dog tags, and a few scraps of bone dug up from a simple grave in some forgotten corner of Hanoi.

Tara's long blue skirt rustles as she steps over to where I'm standing. Bowing with ceremonial reverence, she lays what remains of Lieutenant Clifford Becker in my hands.

"Good bye, Jim Becker," she says pensively. "Debts are now repaid."

*

The Russian airliner lifts into the evening sky leaving Hanoi far below. Lieutenant Clifford Becker's life will now close with full military honors at Arlington National Cemetery in Virginia. But the nightmare of living Jim Becker's life without Tara is just beginning.