Arousing Daddy's

by Taylor Sparks

  My project had lasted from spring to fall and I planted grass and watered it as the last thing to be done for the year on this part of the effort.

  With the new spring the hillside looked pretty much as it had, only with green pipes sticking out of it and some new grass growing. People pretty much forgot about what I had done and life went on. But, I had a storm shelter.

  The weather was tolerable for the next 4 years. There were a few threats and some heavy rains and such, but no direct threats of storms. The neighborhood changed a bit, as all do. Some moved out or died and new ones moved in.

  2 years after I had built the storm shelter, the most antagonistic of my neighbors, Art Burg, died. He lived 2 lots over and left his 3 acre lot with his house and tons of crap on it to his daughter and her husband. My antagonistic neighbor had been kind of a junk dealer and his lot was pretty well saturated with old piles of scrap lumber and metal that he would sell some of periodically to raise money. He continually added to it or sold off from it.

  In the spring of the second year that Art's daughter and husband were living there, 4 years after I'd built my storm shelter, I was sitting out in the lovely evening and heard my neighbors fighting. I could hear breaking glass and banging like pans being thrown. I heard a woman's scream, blood curdling. Then, silence.

  I watched as the young husband, Ray, ran from the house, looking around seemingly to see if anyone was aware of him, and got in his car and raced off, spraying gravel all over my lawn, fully 200 feet away from him.

  I decided I needed to go check on the girl. We hadn't spoken since they lived there. She was her father's daughter and he and I never got along, so the feud seemed to jump the generations to her, as well, though she and I never exchanged any words. But, I did hear a terrible scream and he did leave very hastily. I couldn't help but see if she was ok.

  I knocked on her door and there was no answer. I peered inside the window and saw the bottom half of a person, lying still, with the top half of the body inside another room. I could not see her face, but she wasn't moving.

  "Oh, shit!" I said under my breath and I tried the door handle. It was unlocked and I announced myself and went in. She never moved. I did not know her name, so I did not know what to call her, but it didn't matter, she was out. Blood was pooling rapidly around her and I saw that she had a bad gash on the side of her neck. It was at that moment I realized she was bleeding to death right in front of me. I put pressure on her neck and stopped the bleeding for the moment. With my free hand I reached into my shirt pocket and dialed 911. I gave the operator the address and what I was doing, what had happened and she said, "I have an ambulance on the way, and do not let off pressure on that wound".

  I had never seen her up close and while I waited, I noticed that this young unconscious victim was quite pretty; she had on short-shorts and a t-shirt that came to just above her belly button and with no bra. Her shorts came to just above her pubic area so there was a lot of skin between the shirt and shorts. Her legs were splayed and I could see her yellow and sheer panties and a hint of silky blonde pubic hair jutting out the side where her leg was askew. She had blond hair and eyelashes and was quite trim and attractive, albeit somewhat ashen and messy at the moment. She was breathing and so I just waited. The bleeding had stopped but I knew I dare not take my hand away lest it resume.

  Eventually, I heard the wailing of sirens and soon the ambulance people were there and the sheriff was right behind them. The ambulance crew took over and worked on her for a while, the deputy started asking me all sorts of questions, what with all the blood I had on me. I think I was just a breath away from being wrestled to the ground and arrested. But, I managed to convince him I was a neighbor and that I'd heard her and her husband were fighting, what I'd heard and how he'd left in such a hurry after her bloodcurdling scream.

  The ambulance loaded her up and off they went screaming and speeding away. I was told to go home and clean up and that my statement would be taken in a little while. They still didn't know if this was a murder scene or just what they had on their hands as of yet.

  When I got out of the shower, two deputies were standing in my living room waiting. This alarmed me, but I realized they were just being cops and didn't want me to have a chance to produce any weapons or to run and so they opted to "keep me in sight".

  I asked if they had heard how the girl is doing and they said that Brooke was going to make it. She had had a nasty cut on her neck and it tore into carotid artery, but that I'd saved her life, Brooke was in surgery and would probably be ok. As we were talking their walkie-talkie radios crackled and another deputy was screaming into the radio that he was in a high speed chase after a green 1979 El Camino, headed south on Highway 71 at mile marker 65. I said to the 2 deputies with me, "hey, that is what the guy was driving when he left here after Brooke's screams. An old green El Camino".

  Just then, the radio crackled again and the deputy who was chasing the guy reported that, "He rolled it". "We are at mile marker 66. Send me an ambulance and backup." Then, in about 45 seconds, "he is dead; I need a supervisor and the coroner".

  One of the deputies that were with me in my house radioed to someone, "The witness at this crime scene reports that the perp left in an old green el Camino". They radioed back and forth and I heard their supervisor tell them to bring me in for thorough questioning and for them to have me to make a statement on tape.

  The deputies agreed to let me drive in on my own and I said I'd meet them in 20 minutes at their office. I waited for 4 hours. They were still doing a crime scene investigation and finally they showed up. Later I realized they had gone through my house, too.

  When the 2 hours of questioning was over, I decided to stop by the hospital and see how my neighbor was doing. I went to the nurse's desk and asked for Brooke Burg, not knowing her married name. The nurse said she was "in recovery and who are you?" I was the first visitor and nobody knew much about her, no id, nobody around to tell them anything except what the ambulance guys had on their report. I just said I was the neighbor who had reported the incident and stopped the bleeding until the ambulance got there.

  "Oh, you are all she has, then. You saved her life. I am sure she'd want you to be here for her, come this way."

  "Man, this is weird" I thought. But, I followed. The nurse ushered me into the ICU room, behind the curtain and there lay this wan little creature tubes and wires and ICU things all around whirring and clicking. Brooke opened her eyes with fright. She was heavily bandaged where they'd repaired her artery and a tube sticking out of that, for drainage, I guess. The nurse did not like that Brooke was alarmed and pushed something on her IV and out Brooke went. I was asked to leave, which I did.

  I went on home and wondered what in the world has happened.

  After 4 days, still no sign of any activity over there, so I decided to make another trip to the hospital and see if Brooke was doing ok. I went into her room quietly and she was looking out the window. She looked much better and turned her head to see me. When she did see me, she smiled and said she had heard I saved her life. I realized I was going to be welcome so I sat down and told her what had happened from my perspective. She cried and told me that it was just as well that he had died because he was abusing her nearly every day. I visited her every day until she was released. She had nobody else.

  Ray had been so jealous of her and she never got to make any friends; and with her dad being dead she was all alone. She indicated, hinted kind of, that there was a little inheritance left from her dad and that she could sell some more of his junk and get by for a couple of years, so she wasn't in any distress over money for the moment, which I was most pleased to hear because I didn't have any extra money to be giving or lending.

  After 10 days, they released her from the hospital and she asked if I would take her home. I, of course, said "I would be glad to", but she had nothing to wear and wondered, out loud, if there was some way to get some clothes to wear home. I just did not know how to respond,
so I said, "hmmm".

  Brooke said, "Mr. Bill, I know we haven't really gotten to know one another, but I really don't have anyone and since you were in my house and saved my life, would you mind going back and bringing me a change of clothes?"

  "Brooke", I said, "I will do whatever I can to help. Of course I will get something for you to wear home."

  So, I went back over to my neighbor's house and found her bedroom and her dresser and closet. I brought her a nice button down sleeveless, pink blouse, a pair of jeans and ankle socks with tennis shoes. I wrestled for 30 minutes over her panty drawer, trying to decide which pair she would most like. I settled on a rose colored pair with green flowers, sheer, and I found a matching bra. It was also sheer. Damn, I had to stop in the bathroom and shake off the dew. I put it all in a plastic sack and brought it to the hospital. She was delighted and put them all on, while I waited outside her curtain. The doctor came in before she was released and gave me a sheet of instructions which included medications and therapy for her full recovery. I guess I was becoming this 25 year old young woman's care giver. He discussed her care with me, telling me about diet, exercise, restrictions and when he wanted to follow up with her.

  The weather was warm, it was May. We'd had some rain storms and lightning in the past few days and it was typical for this time of year. I could see in the West a line of thunderstorms were building and it looked like it could be stormy tonight. I never did turn the radio on to hear that they were forecasting bad storms for our area tonight. We were under a storm watch, and I never knew it. And, I was the one who was so anal retentive about things like that.

  I pulled my pickup in to Brooke's driveway and helped her to her door. When she opened it, she broke down crying. The mess had not been cleaned up; there was dried and caked blood, her blood, broken dishes and pans on the floor. The house was a mess. She stopped in the door way and I bumped into her, as she bent over and stepped back into my groin, weeping and sobbing.

  I touched her back and she turned and put her arms around my neck and sobbed. Slowly I put my hands on her sides and then my arms around her and just held her as she soaked my shirt just above my right breast. We stood there toe to toe and my crotch to her belly button, her breasts grinding into my stomach. Then, she just feinted.

  I caught her just as she went down and gently laid her out on the living room floor and shut the door. I was concerned for her neck wound and checked it. It was not bleeding. I found a hand towel in the kitchen and soaked it with cool water and dabbed her face and arms and hands with it. She revived a little and looked at me. "Mr. Bill, I don't think I can stay here alone tonight. Please, may I stay with you? I won't be any problem; I just need a day or two to adjust".

  "Sure, Brooke, it's ok. We'll get you over to my house and get you settled in." I offered.

  When we got to my house, the clouds were covering the sun and it was a little windy. It smelled like rain and I looked up and noticed some nasty formations brewing in the Southwest. I needed to remember to keep an eye out.

  Brooke was hungry, so I fried up a couple of large hamburgers, sliced some celery, green onions, radishes, tomatoes and got a bag of Wavy Lay's out of the cupboard. I didn't have hamburger buns, but had some good 12 grain bread and we had a feast of hamburgers and veggies. I poured her a glass of milk and she giggled and drank it leaving a mustache on her upper lip. She was adorable.

  Lightening cracked loud, close. We both jumped off our chairs, back into reality. I went to the door and looked out. "This is bad," I said. "We need to go to the bus."

  "The bus?" What are you talking about Mr. Bill?" Brooke asked.

  The wind picked up and the rain started pouring down. I could hear little drops of hail hitting the roof and knew that it would be better to get up to the bus and do it quickly.

  "Let's go!" I said and grabbed her hand and we took off toward the bus. She couldn't run, because she was so weak and it was uphill. We had just gotten home from the hospital and she was in no shape to be running up hill. She cried in terror at the approaching storm and so I picked her up, and in a fireman's carry over my shoulders I ran toward that 24 inch pipe that protruded out of the ground, which I had so carefully placed there 4 years earlier. It was a downpour of rain, the wind was thrashing about and things from around the yard were swirling in the air already. I made it to the pipe, realizing that Brooke's crotch was bouncing up and down on my right shoulder and that her breasts were being raked up and down over the back of my neck and left shoulder. I also realized she was delicate with a fresh surgery and I needed to check it for bleeding, but we needed to get down in the bus, first.

  I opened the hatch on the pipe and saw that the ladder was in place, I told her to go down that ladder and hurry. I was right on top of her; I had to be careful not to step on her hands. I got the latch shut and bolted just as I heard a roaring that sounded like a dozen freight trains all coming at once. Our ears popped and all the air seemed to suck out of the bus. It was miserable for a few moments. Brooke was still crawling down the ladder and I was yelling for her to hurry. Once at the bottom, it was pitch black. We ran into one another and my hand went out and latched onto her breast. She grabbed and caressed my stomach. I said, "I have some candles over here, to the right". Finally, I found them and the lighter and lit one then several more. It was quiet, eerily dark and we were safe.

  I held a candle up to Brooke's neck and touched her cheek so I could move her head to one side while I looked at her bandage. Everything seemed ok for the moment, but the bandage was dirty. Still, the surgery site seemed to be ok. Her blue eyes were big as saucers as she took in what was around us.

  From above us, directly on the 24 inch pipe I heard a loud crash, clang and then silence. I went back up the ladder to take a look out and see what the situation was. I could not budge the lid to the steel pipe. It was jammed. Something was laying on it or had hit it and sprung the hinges, or jammed the lid down hard. We were trapped. I tried and tried to push that lid, but it wouldn't budge. I could hear nothing outside. "Is this our tomb?" I asked nobody in particular from the top of the ladder, out of Brooke's earshot.

  I went down the ladder and Brooke was crying and shaking. She latched onto me and asked if we were going to be ok, and wanted to know what was happening. She was touching me with every square inch that she could touch me with. She was so afraid. I soothed her hair and stroked her cheek. I told her how I had buried this old bus 4 years earlier on a notion and how the neighbors, I did not mention her dad by name, had ridiculed me. But, here we were saved and safe in the bus.

  We had water, we had food and we could sleep and wait it out. Sooner or later someone would be by and get us out. Right. Nobody knew, or at least remembered, about the bus. Or, if they did nobody would think to look. It had been 4 years and most of the folks who knew about it had died or moved.

  It had been a long day. I was exhausted and Brooke was too. She needed to rest a little extra and so I made out two cots. I blew out all the candles but one and secured it. It was a survival type candle and would burn for many hours. I got Brooke settled and when I lay down, I was out.

  I had no idea what time it was, I woke with a start and Brooke was faintly visible to me just 2 feet away in her cot. Sometime or other she had apparently gotten warm and kicked her covers off and removed her shirt and pants. She was laying there in that sheer, rose colored bra and panties. She was so beautiful. As I lay there looking at her, I could see she was dreaming, she twitched and groaned some. I saw her hips grind once or twice and then I smelled it; female arousal. It is an unmistakable aroma, unique in all its' qualities. It is loaded with pheromones that arouse all males, old and young, firm and infirm. The chance to mate is something the female cannot hide from all males of her species. As I lay there watching her hand slid down to her groin and she touched her clitoral hood gently, ever so gently, rubbing in tight circles over her sheer panties. The smell of her arousal was increased and she was moaning and grinding with her hips against her f
ingertips. Soon she place both feet flat on her cot and raised her knees, spreading them and snaking her fingers inside the waistband of her panties. Her left hand went to her left breast and slipped inside her bra, I could see her pinch her hard, little nipple. I could hear the sloshing sounds as she masturbated to the unseen visions in her head. Her breathing was erratic, her moaning was increasingly demanding, her hips were humping her hand, and she uttered a word, no, two words, no, three. "Oh, Mr. Bill".

  Stunned, I lay there on my side fingering an erection, which was harder than anything I'd had since I was 20. I quietly removed my jeans and anxiously reached inside my jockeys to feel the frisky and hard piece of male flesh that begins to disappoint older men all too soon in this life. I felt the zeal and joy of a young man, but I knew I was her older neighbor and she was vulnerable. I had to steal myself away from this vulnerability and keep her safe. She must not feel threatened, unsafe, trapped. I must not yield to my baser instincts. This young lady must be intact when we are rescued, there could be no other way.

  I did have a cell phone, but there was no signal underground and entombed as we were in metal and earth. We could do nothing but wait. I covered my nubile neighbor and masturbated furiously while she slept. But, I did not touch her unseemly and did not let on that I had heard her in her sleep.

  5 days later, a rescue team out searching the rubble of the Category 4 Tornado did find us and when they made some noise we could hear we put up a ruckus. We were rescued in healthy condition, somewhat worse for the wear. One of the rescuers thought the place smelled like sex. I told him the girl's virtues were intact as when we'd gone in there. Apparently she had been masturbating when I was sleeping as well.