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From: Incest Man <familyincest@graffiti.net>
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Subject: story: "The HEAT" (mf) chapter 7
Date: Sun, 07 Jan 2007 05:11:25 -0800
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===================

http://www.incesttabooo.com/heat07.html

The HEAT

chapter 7

Two  weeks  passed.   They  passed   slowly,   but   hardly
peacefully.  The daytime temperature remained in the 100's,
and things were heating up in more ways than one:

The Willyville Nudist Society, despite  warnings  from  the
police,  persisted  in  their  activities.   Walks,  swims,
gardening, any outdoor activity that could be was performed
in the nude in the scorching  sunshine.   After  the  first
fifty busts or so, the police decided it was a  lost  cause
and just ignored the whole thing.  After  all,  they  still
had the air-conditioner thieves to catch.  The nudists were
easy to spot even with their clothes on, as they  had  tans
so deep they bordered on  sunburns.   But  then  a  medical
segment on the local news mentioned something that put  the
whole thing into a new light...

Skin cancer.

Terror spread through the naturist community as fast as the
phone could carry the news, and the next day the Willyville
Nudist Society  disbanded,  only  to  be  replaced  by  the
Willyville Overcoat Society.  That's  right,  every  single
one of the ex-nudists were bundled up  in  long  coats  and
large hats every time they set  foot  outside.   Within  48
hours the hospitals reported 19 cases of heat stroke.   The
doctors and nurses of the Willyville medical community were
beginning to wish  they  had  the  luxury  of  taking  long
overdue vacations...

On a more positive note,  the  Willyville  air  conditioner
crime wave ended in a rather spectacular way.   Elmo  Burns
had taken a sick  day  from  the  sawmill  and  was  busily
enjoying X-rated videotapes in the privacy of his own  home
(as was his constitutional right)  when  he  heard  strange
noises coming from the direction  of  the  air-conditioner.
Already suspicious, he pulled up  his  pants,  grabbed  his
over-and-under shotgun, went out the front door, and  snuck
around to the back of the house.  Sure enough, there was  a
man standing on a short stepladder,  trying  to  lever  the
air-conditioner  loose  with  a  crowbar.   Obviously,   he
thought Elmo was away at work, overlooking Elmo's Ford  4X4
sitting square in the  driveway.   Elmo  figured  that  the
subtle approach would just be wasted on someone this  dumb,
so he announced his presence by letting the would-be  thief
have it right in the ass with both barrels at close range.

Elmo's  shotgun  had  been  loaded  with  hand-made  shells
containing, not buckshot, but rock salt  and  bacon  rinds,
which had been his daddy's  solution  for  kids  who  stole
crops from the fields.  The attack was not lethal, but  the
crook was still quite immobilized (to say the  least)  when
the police arrived.  The detective in charge of the  thefts
saw that a golden opportunity had arisen to bring this mess
to a halt once and for all.   He  took  the  wounded  thief
downtown instead of to the  hospital  and  directly  to  an
interrogation room.  There,  being  held  down  on  a  hard
wooden chair by two burly officers, it took  the  screaming
thief less than fifteen seconds to decide to roll  over  on
the rest of his  gang.   Within  the  hour  they  were  all
rounded up, along  with  a  small  warehouse  full  of  air
conditioners, which had turned out to be a  bit  harder  to
fence that they anticipated.

The chief of police announced the news from  the  steps  of
City Hall to a cheering crowd of over a  thousand  sweating
theft victims.  But there was  one  small  snag.   Somebody
asked when the air conditioners would be returned to  their
anxious owners.  The chief paused for a  second,  swallowed
hard, then confessed that they would all have  to  be  held
over as evidence for  the  trial--which  was  scheduled  to
begin in six weeks.

The riot that ensued would best be  left  to  the  reader's
imagination...

---

"Ooooooooooooooooooohhhhmmmmmmmmmmmmm..."  Michael crooned,
sitting crosslegged in the middle of the floor.

"Ooooooooooooooooooohhhhmmmmmmmmmmmmm..."    Harold   aped,
sitting in an identical position in across from him.

"Repeat after me."  Michael said quietly.  "Owha..."

"Owha..."

"Tajer..."

"Tajer..."

"Kiyam."

"Kiyam."

"Now repeat the whole thing."  Michael said.

"Ohwa...  Tajer...  Kiyam..."  Harold droned, eyes closed.

Michael got up a bit stiffly, and said, "I'll be back in  a
few minutes.  Keep repeating this,  a  little  faster  each
time, until I return."  and closed the door quietly  behind
him.  He limped down to the kitchen  (that  lotus  position
gets harder on the knees every year) and grabbed  a  couple
beers.

As expected, when he got back,  Harold  was  not  chanting.
Instead he glared at Michael  with  all  the  indignity  he
could muster.  "Very funny."

Michael sat in the recliner.  "That, my dear boy,  was  the
Tibetian Mantra for Self Realization."  He grinned, "Sorry,
I just couldn't resist.  Besides,  if  you  really  were  a
jerk, you would have still been chanting when I  got  back,
and then I'd have *known* there was no hope for you."

Harold glared a moment longer,  then  they  both  broke  up
laughing.  Wiping a tear from his eye, Harold said, "Still,
it was a cheap shot."

Michael leaned forward, offering Harold a beer.  "Actually,
it was intended to illustrate a  serious  point.   To  wit:
just  because  you've  fooled   yourself   into   believing
something, that doesn't mean it's true."

Harold popped the top on the  can,  which  promptly  foamed
into his lap.  "Shit."  he grunted, looking  around  for  a
towel.  "You mean I've been wasting my time this  last  two
weeks with all this meditation stuff?"

"Not at all.  You are becoming quite adept  at  controlling
your  voluntary  reactions   and   senses.    You   haven't
complained about the heat here at all for the last  several
days."  Now that Harold thought about it, he really  wasn't
feeling the heat at all.  Michael continued, "In fact, I've
never seen anyone advance so fast.  No, I'd say you're well
on your way to conquering your ejaculation  problem.   It's
your other problem I'm really concerned about."

"Oh?   And  just  what  problem  is  that?"   Harold  asked
suspiciously.

"I think you know what I'm talking about.  Your  insistance
that you define your sexual abilities  by  the  ability  to
postpone orgasm.  I think you're going to  find  that  that
doesn't mean very much in  the  real  world.   What  you're
really lacking is confidence and self-knowledge.  You  need
to know your capabilites and trust in them in order  to  BE
capable.  Being able to have intercourse  as  long  as  you
like is a fine thing, but you're going  to  find  that  not
that many women are going to be impressed by  that  ability
alone."

Harold was shaken.  "You mean this isn't going to solve  my
problem?"  Michael rolled his eyes upwards.   "At  last  he
begins to see the light.  I talked to Julie the  other  day
and she says-"

"You've talked  to  her?"   Harold  interrupted  anxiously.
"Where is she?  How's she doing?"

"Calm down, calm down.  She's doing fine, she  just  has  a
few things to work out.  She actually  called  to  see  how
you're doing.  Apparently that night  you  shared  together
has affected her as strongly as it did you."

Harold's eyes became dreamy "Wow."

"Anyway," Michael continued drily, "as I was saying,  Julie
commented that your abilities were quite  remarkable.   Yet
you persist in believing  that  you  are  inadequete,  just
because one person told you that you were.   That  shows  a
very serious lack of self confidence.  Do you see what  I'm
saying?"

Harold thought it over a long moment.  "Maybe...   But  how
do I get this confidence?"

"You have to  know  yourself."   Michael  concluded.   "And
doing this is not the easiest thing in the world.  You have
to go out and do things.  You have to explore.  If you just
sit around being a mass of untapped potential then you will
never know what that potential is.  You cannot be confident
in something you do not know."

"Okay," Harold said, a bit confused, "So  what's  all  this
got to do with what's going on right now?"

"I'm glad you asked.  I think it's time we tested  some  of
that potential right now."  Michael got up and  opened  the
door.  "Diane," he called.  A moment later one of the  most
stunning women Harold had ever seen in his life walked  in.
"Harold, this is Diane.  Diane, Harold."

Diane offered her hand and Harold took it briefly.  "Hello,
Harold."  she said, in a low, husky voice.  She stood about
six  inches  shorter  than  he  did,  and  had   a   lithe,
well-proportioned body.  Harold  felt  almost  helpless  to
prevent  his  eyes  from  travelling  downward,  from   her
shoulder-length  auburn  hair  to   small,   pert   breasts
contained in a red tank-top to long, tanned legs, very well
set off  by  her  rather  brief  white  shorts.   Suddenly,
self-consciously, he jerked back  up  where  her  beautiful
hazel eyes met his in a penetrating gaze.  She slipped  her
hand from his and walked over to the window,  hips  swaying
just the right amount to hold his attention captive.   Then
she turned back to him and stood there, one hand on  cocked
hip, fixing him again with that gaze.

Harold swallowed hard and shoved one hand in his pocket, to
conceal the  bulge  that  was  growing  there.   There  was
nothing physically remarkable about this  woman.   All  her
power and sexuality was in the way she moved, the  way  she
held herself.  As Tom had often said: "It's  not  what  you
got so much as how you show it."  A wave of pure lust swept
over Harold.  He wanted this woman more  than  any  he  had
ever seen in his life, yet her  self  assurnace  frightened
him, as if telling him this was more woman  that  he  could
ever handle.

Then Michael cleared his  throat  and  the  spell  snapped.
Diane relaxed and  became  a  mere  mortal  again,  leaning
against the windowframe and grinning like someone  who  had
just played a grand joke.  Harold felt as if  he  had  been
doused with cold water from the inside out and the bulge in
his pants quickly receded.  He swallowed drily.  "That's...
some act."

"Thanks."  She said, her  voice  now  quite  ordinary.   "I
always get a kick out of doing that.  Before I  came  here,
guys used to ignore me  in  droves.   Now  I  can  get  'em
drooling any time I please.  I don't do it very often,  but
it's nice to know that I can."  "Diane came here about four
years ago."  Michael said, in his  best  college  professor
voice.  "Her circumstances weren't all that different  from
yours, in fact.  She felt she had all kinds of  faults  and
deficiencies, but her biggest problem was that  she  simply
didn't  know  herself.   Under  my  guidence,  she  quickly
learned who she really was and  what  she  could  do."   He
turned to her and asked, "What was it you were doing before
you came here?  I forget."

She appeared to ponder it for  a  moment.   "Oh,  yeah.   I
almost forgot about it.  I was waitressing down at Ptomaine
Palace for minimum wage and living with this guy who  would
slap me around because he said sex with  me  was  'boring'.
Finally the fucker ran off,  leaving  me  with  a  lease  I
couldn't afford to pay.  My fondest fantasy is to track him
down someday and put his ass in  the  hospital."   A  feral
gleam suddenly appeared in her eye and Harold felt a  chill
running down his spine.  "Anyway, after the landlord  threw
me out a friend introduced me to Michael.  After hearing my
story he gave me free room and  board  for  as  long  as  I
needed it, and lectures every day.  After a  while  I  quit
resenting it and started to really listen to  what  he  was
telling me.  Now, in a couple months I'll  be  starting  my
junior year at the university with a major in  Engineering.
And I owe it all to Michael."

"Bullshit."  Michael growled,  sitting  back  down  in  his
recliner.  "You owe it all to yourself.  I just gave you  a
kick in the ass that got it started.  No excuse for letting
yourself go to hell like that.  None at  all."   He  paused
for a moment.  "Do you still want to do this?"

She looked Harold up and down appraisingly.  "Sure.   Might
be instructive all around."

Harold suddenly felt very alone  and  outnumbered.   And  a
little worried.  "Um, somebody want to let me in on this?"

"Well," she said, walking over to Harold, "Mikey and I  had
a little talk last night, and I had this idea to, you know,
prove just how far along you had come  in  conquering  your
little problem."  She placed a hand  on  Harold's  shoulder
and traced it, feather light, down his  shirtfront  to  his
belt buckle, which she hooked  a  finger  into  and  tugged
gently.

Harold swallowed hard, wondering just how far he had gotten
over his head here.  He looked over at  Michael.   Michael,
who had winced visibly at "Mikey," simply looked  back  and
said nothing.  No help there.

So he turned back to Diane.  "Um,  you  mean  here?   Right
now?"

"Sure."  she said, tugging on his buckle again.  "Why not?"

Then she was rubbing up against him, her  arms  around  his
neck.  Their mouths  met  in  a  long,  breathtaking  kiss.
Harold's cock was as stiff as  a  railroad  spike,  and  it
didn't help that Diane was grinding her hips  against  his.
She broke the kiss and ran her tongue slowly along Harold's
jawline.  Planting little kisses along his neck, she slowly
slid down his front, maintaining maximum contact  with  her
hands a body all the way.  When she was on her  knees,  her
face level with his crotch, she began to work at  his  belt
buckle.

Oh, jeez, Harold thought, as he looked around  frantically.
Michael was still watching, only his expression was intent.
Harold got the distinct feeling he was being *studied*.

Diane got Harold's belt  unbuckled,  undid  the  snap,  and
pulled the zipper down.  A white  bulge  immediately  poked
through, as his erection strained to be free of his shorts.
His pants fell to his ankles with a  jingle  of  change  as
Diane placed a hand on  his  covered  bulge,  massaging  it
gently while she looked up into his eyes.   Harold  already
felt waves of massive pleasure surge  up  from  his  groin.
She put her mouth over the tip of  the  bulge  and  exhaled
gently.  Harold clearly felt the heat of her breath on  his
cock, and moaned imperceptibly.

Then she grabbed the waistband of his briefs and  began  to
slowly pull them down,  uncovering  his  erection  inch  by
agonizing inch.  The pounding in his cock  was  matched  by
the pounding in his head as he felt the elastic  drag  down
along the length of his penis.

Then he was free, his cock standing stiffly erect  for  all
the world to see.  He glanced over at Michael, but  Michael
didn't seem to be as interested in the action as he was  in
Harold's face.  Then Harold forgot all about him  as  Diane
extended her tongue and ran it up along his cock.

Then, without warning, she plunged it into her mouth.   All
the way in.  While Harold wasn't  exceptionally  large,  he
had still never met a  woman  who  could  deep  throat  him
before.  The feeling was nothing short of amazing,  as  the
warm, slick wetness of her mouth enveloped his entire cock.
The feeling was intensely erotic,  and  Harold  closed  his
eyes with a moan and rolled his  hips  as  he  prepared  to
explode into her mouth.

A sudden, hard slap rocked his face.   Shocked,  he  opened
his eyes to stare at Michael, who had bounded off his chair
and stood just behind Diane.  "Harold,"  he  said  quietly,
"if you ejaculate in her mouth, she will  bite  your  penis
off."

At that moment, he felt a brief, sharp pain at the base  of
his cock as she dug her teeth in very slightly, just  as  a
hint,  before  resuming  her  sucking   with   double   the
intensity.

Cold horror gripped Harold's heart.  He had been a fraction
of a second away from coming before  Michael  slapped  him,
but the slap had brought  him  well  back  from  the  edge.
Still,  Diane's  oral  talents  were   nothing   short   of
extraordinary and it would not be very long before  he  was
back again.  She slid his cock in  and  out  of  her  mouth
while lightly caressing his balls with one hand.  The other
hand slid between his legs and began to tease  his  asshole
with a finger.  Already the pressure was beginning to build
as Harold frantically thought of a way to stop it.

In the midst of panic came a voice of calm.  Your training,
you idiot!  it said.  That's it!  Harold replied.  He began
to repeat the mantras Michael had taught him over and  over
in his mind.  Slowly, the real world began to fade into the
distance as he entered a trance.   The  sensations  beneath
his belly eased to the point  where  he  could  contemplate
them or dismiss them altogether.  His heart slowed and  his
pupils dialated as his mind entered an alpha state.  Within
an amazingly short time he became pure ego, floating  in  a
sea of peace and serenity.

After what seemed a brief yet endless  time  his  hindbrain
became aware that something changed and  he  resurfaced  to
conciousness, gazing  at  Michael's  gently  smiling  face.
Harold looked down and saw that Diane had stopped, and  was
sitting at his feet, massaging her jaw.

"Jeez."  she said, "Thirty fucking minutes.  Nobody's  ever
outlasted me before."   She  looked  up  at  him  ruefully.
"Mister, you are nothing short of amazing."

Laughing, Michael clapped Harold hard on the  back,  almost
making him trip over his pants.  He quickly pulled them  up
and refastened them.  "Well,  my  boy,"  Michael  said,  "I
guess I'd  pronounce  you  cured,  at  least  by  your  own
standards."

Harold stood there, amazed.  "I..  guess I really  did  it.
I never thought I would."

"I had no doubt."   Michael  said.   "You  have  found  one
solution to your problem.  Not the best one, in my opinion,
but a solution all the same.  With practice you shall  find
others, I'm sure."

Harold helped Diane to her feet.  He looked her in the  eye
and asked, "Would you really have...?"

She just smiled and said nothing.

Harold gulped and  looked  over  at  Michael.   "Would  she
have?"

Michael just shrugged.  "Beats me.  And I suppose I  should
know if anybody would.  After all, she's my wife."

Harold's jaw dropped  open.   It  stayed  that  way  for  a
moment, until Diane reached up and gently closed it.   "You
look cute when you're shocked."  she  admitted.   Then  she
gently tugged him towards the door.

"What are you doing?"  he asked, still flabberghasted.

"I think we can find a more suitable place to  finish  what
we started..."

"But...  but..."  he looked over at Michael helplessly.

Michael just shrugged again, palms up.  "She  does  as  she
wishes.  And I wouldn't have it any other  way.   You  have
passed an important hurdle today, and a difficult one.  You
deserve a reward.  Enjoy yourself.  Both of you."

Harold was silenced, at least long enough for Diane to drag
him out of there and to his well-earned reward.

And what a reward it was!

Wanna more hot porn stories? >
http://www.incesttabooo.com/heat07.html

    

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