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