Tulao'otupu, New Shasheer - 3

Three days of questions and interviews were over. We spent a fourth day in that town with basically nothing to do. I was told to stay there and await further instructions. Flower and I got in a lot of fucking that day, gees, like 7 times full climax for me and numerous for her. We also did some more shopping, and, and we picked up the 2 ao dais that had been tailor made for her. Good heavens they were lovely when she put them on. I did the paying, and we walked out of there with Flower wearing one. Boy, did the heads turn!

But then, gad-dammit! It was over! One more night of vigorous fucking and then sleeping in her embrace, and the next day, well...

The first half of the day was to ourselves. But then we were to report at an office where I was officially released from my "duty" of guarding the "POW" Flower, and Flower was officially no longer considered a POW. The next day she was to board a jet flight, a long one, that would take her from Vietnam to, so I was told, San Francisco, California, USA. From there, she would be admitted to one of a number of "halfway" homes for Vietnamese who were coming to USA. (At that time there were a lot of them due to South Vietnam being unable to hold back the forces of North Vietnam. For those of you that were teenage, young, or otherwise already alive at that time, you can remember it was a mess.)

Flower was to be awarded 20 thousand-some dollars as a reward for her information and helping an American serviceman (me) stay alive. She would be given immediate citizenship.

As for me, I had to go back finally to my air force base where I would complete my term. I was told there was only a few weeks left and I would only be doing office work. The United States' part in the war was winding down anyway. I heard the draft had been discontinued.

The flight Flower would be leaving on was the next day's morning. Immediately after the office, Flower was to go by bus for a short trip to a holding area for Vietnamese on the way to USA which was next to the airport in Saigon (now known as Ho Chi Minh City). From there she would board the airlines jet the next morning.

After quite a bit of arguing, where I got a bit aggressive with superior officers quite frankly (very unusual for me), they let me accompany, at my expense, Flower to the airport. Also at my expense, we would spend the night at a hotel next to the airport. They sternly warned me not to let Flower miss her flight.

So, in that way, I eked out one more day and night with Flower.

The bus, like all buses in Vietnam, was crowded and hot. Cooling was only provided by all the windows being open. Despite that, Flower shoved me into a seat row first, next to the window, then sat real close and tight next to me. I felt protected, but hot. Her arm was around me the whole time, and she pressed her thighs against mine. I was almost crushed between her and the wall of the bus! Talk about being smothered with love! But I loved it! By the way, she was wearing one of her lovely ao dais.
She was quiet the whole time, but I felt her love flowing into me; I mean, it was actually palpable. She would stroke my hair and thigh and other places from time to time and softly cooed loving sounds into my ear. Some of it was English, such as "Me love pretty Alexsa", and others were in Vietnamese.

After we got to the airport, Flower and I were to report to the holding area where we were to meet someone, a Vietnamese lady, who would be a personal guide and interpreter for Flower. These persons, headed for USA themselves, were volunteers who offered their services to their fellow Vietnamese who were not good with English. The holding area appeared to be former barracks. It was not air-conditioned, but there were plenty of fans around. All sorts of Vietnamese, including some families, were there, crowded in to await the flight the next morning.
After meeting her, and she was very nice, Flower and I then found a middle-priced hotel within walking distance of the airport terminal.

The hotel room was air-conditioned. Flower wasted no time getting me undressed and getting down to fucking. Man, that gal,s capacity for sex astounds me. Again, dinner and breakfast were at simple, small, "native" (not tourist) restaurants that mostly only Vietnamese went to. Most were not air-conditioned, and they were crowded and noisy. But the food was good.

Then, ugh! That was indeed the last night together! Not only that, but it had to end early. We had to get to the holding area 6 in the morning for the 10 a.m. flight. We had to drag ourselves out of bed at 4:30. Flower woke up horny so she knocked me down onto the bed on my side where she then masturbated on my hip. That made us late so we had to walk fast to get there on time.
We found Flower's guide, and then I accompanied them to the airport terminal.

In the terminal, it wasn't pretty. Flower cried. Dammit. I was afraid of that. I was hoping she'd be, like, strong or something. I was near tears myself and that wasn't helping.

We had already gone through customs and all of that. All the jibbidy-goop of getting on a flight was over, and the walkway to board the plane was right there. They were not boarding yet. We were supposed to sit down to wait. That's when Flower, standing up there like a tower at 6 feet 4 (with 2-inch heels), gorgeous in her ao dai and already attracting attention, broke down to a-crying. All those other short Vietnamese looked at us. Some giggled and some smiled sympathetically.

Flower pulled me by the arm to another boarding area that was under repairs and so there were dust/noise-blocking walls. She pulled me behind those, wrapped her arms around me and let go, crying profusely and pretty loud. Her guide came gracefully trotting over there with us. She tried to console the big Flower. "Me big love love pretty Alexsa!" she bawled, "Me not want separate! Not want separate!", and other things like that. Land sakes, like, the big gal really loved me that much! Really yanked at my tears too. I held her tightly. That guide lady tried, tried, tried to console Flower. I don't know what she said because she was speaking Vietnamese.

Thank goodness the noise level at the terminal was high. Noise of jets from outside added to the crowd and general bustling noise making it nearly impossible to hear any one person any more than a few feet away. And we were behind some boards in relative darkness. A few folks peeked in quickly, however.

Flower felt me all over, held me so tight that I could hardly breathe, and at times even lifted me up. Gads, she's strong as well! Make no mistake about it.
Her black, flowing hair enveloped me it seemed, and her tears made my shoulder wet. She was bawling some things in Vietnamese to her guide. Her guide replied in gentle, consoling tones.

Announcements in Vietnamese and English came over the loudspeaker that the plane was boarding. You know how they go by seat numbers. They load the rear seat passengers first then progress to the front ones. That's so that people aren't stepping all over each other. Well, I don't know what seat number Flower and her guide had, but her guide kept insisting to go but Flower would not, and now the last of the passengers were boarding. The guide became very insistent, but keeping her voice down. I too insisted to Flower, "You must go into the airplane now. I gave you that paper with my parents' telephone number and address. Call them, young lady, or write a letter!"

I turned to Flower's guide and told her to remind Flower of the paper I had given Flower with my parents' address and telephone number. I gave her my parents' address and number because they are settled. I would be moving around a lot in the next several weeks. I told Flower through the interpreter that my parents would then in turn contact me.

With me and Flower's guide tugging at Flower, we finally got her to move toward the boarding walkway. The ladies at the boarding desk, where they take the ticket, smiled sympathetically.

It took some doing to get Flower to release her hold on me. Gads, she's so strong! Stronger than me, and certainly stronger than her guide and those other ladies. Finally, after several reassurances from me that "We will be together after only a few months", Flower finally released me. And that's with one of the flight attendants running up to hurry them up.

As I watched sobbing Flower, who was stumbling a bit and leaning upon her tiny guide, make her way down the walkway, I realized that, by gosh, this is the longest distance she and I have been apart in a long time! Except for on the island, where my solitary walks sometimes put up to a mile or more between us (and even that she did not particularly like), Flower and I have managed to get no further than, I'd say... 20 feet apart. But she was 30 feet now, then 40, then 50... Flower kept turning to look back at me, then cry even harder. They then turned a corner and were out of sight. Again, first time that has happened in months except of course, those hikes.

I stood there staring out the window until the walkway chute began to move away from the aircraft. I turned and went straight away to a men's restroom, locked myself in a stall, and absolutely cried my eyes out. It was maybe an hour before I came out. And of course, my eyes were red and everything else, which was embarrassing.

Good heavens! I felt so alone, so unprotected. Strange... Silly of me I thought. But really, I ain't kidding. She had been by my side for nearly 4 months. She nurtured me, protected me, loved me, and gees... when most women (in high school, college, etc) wouldn't even give me the time of day for reasons I have no idea, that big gal Flower gave me her whole heart.

And dammit! There was nowhere to hide. No car to sit in for a while, no home to go to. I had to hustle to a bus, this time on my own. Without Flower, I had to find a bus service that spoke English, and that would be more expensive. I had money, but what would I order, or how would I order in one of the restaurants? Again, I could go to some high-palootin restaurant for tourists, but it would be much more expensive. Anyways, I wasn't hungry. Huh, she really had been looking out for me and taking care of me. Geewillikers. I really felt unprotected and... and cold even, despite the temperature being in the upper 80s and very humid.

Well, fighting back tears the whole time, I found a nice, air-conditioned, but expensive bus back to that base Flower and I had been processed in. From there, I took another bus, this time with some other American guys, back to the air force base where I was stationed.

At least I was back in something like "quarters" that was anything but private. The commander asked if I needed a couple days off before getting to work, or get to work tomorrow. I just said tomorrow. I thought maybe being busy would control my sadness.

Gees, the heartache...

You know, for years, all my life, I never liked the kinds of songs on the radio about heartache too much. Whether sung by a man or woman, I found them too draggy. I liked sprite, high-energy music. But now I certainly knew what they were singing about. It is an actual freakin' ache in the upper chest. That can't be any good for a body. But I had it, bad.

Whew! Okay, so I gave a few days. Well, before that, I immediately wrote a letter to my parents asking them to be on the lookout for Flower's calls or letters. I knew it would take 2 weeks for the letter to reach them. So, but anyway, I gave it a few days time... The flight would take 25 hours, and then... I was interested in such things anyway, because I was a pilot myself and planned to try to become an airlines pilot when I was done with the Air force. Anyway, Flower's flight would go from Saigon, land in Guam mostly for refueling, then fly to Honolulu, Hawaii, then to San Francisco, or so I understood. From there she would be placed in any one of halfway houses for Vietnamese going to USA. There was no way to know where she would end up. So I was totally dependant on her to contact my parents from that paper with that information I gave her.

So, 25 hours for the flight, then maybe... a day or two to get to a halfway house... oh maybe, give it 3 days overall so she can settle in. Then at that time, she should be making attempts to call my parents. Or write a letter. From San Francisco, it should only take a few days for a letter to reach my parents in Colorado Springs.

Making a telephone call from the base was difficult because of all the rules and regulations over the use of their telephones. Finally, after a lot of begging and demanding of my superiors, one finally somewhat impatiently said, "Okay, okay, airman, you can use that telephone there. But the charge will be deducted from your pay. We have had patience with you because of what you been through, but you are really getting to be too demanding."
"Well, sorry for the trouble", I insisted, "But I just don't see why it is so impossible to use the phones. I'll gladly pay for it!"
"It isn't just the money. If I let you use the phones, then they'll all want to use it. The lines are limited, and getting cut off every day. With the vietcong causing more and more trouble, lines are taken out everyday making it difficult to get any service through."

With that hard-won time on the telephone, I finally placed a call to my parents. Well the bad news was, that after 2 weeks, there was no letter or telephone call from Flower. Egads! That did not sit well. Gees, gad dammit! After all that fight with them to get me to use their phones, and I have to get that.

Man, I couldn't concentrate on anything! I was doing sedate office work, and I was easily distracted. I was scared silly about why Flower had not contacted my parents yet. Worried and sad.

Finally those last 5 weeks oozed by and my time in Vietnam and the Air force was coming to an end. A few more days and I myself was on a flight that left Saigon, refueled in Guam, went to Hawaii, and, in my case, arrived into Los Angeles. From there, a connecting flight brought me to Colorado Springs where my parents picked me up. I was home... but far from happy.

No contact from Flower at all. No letters, no telephone calls. Now how in the gad-dammed freaking hell am I to find Flower with absolutely no leads to start with.

Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!...

That partially expressed what I felt at that time!

There was a little more business to do with the Air force there in Colorado Springs and then I was officially discharged.

The next few weeks I moped around and the only thing I was interested in is finding Flower.

My parents and I lived on a farm, but it was not that big and was not the sole source of income. Although I helped out, they kept insisting I get a job or go on with my plans to become an airlines pilot. Indeed, I had better hurry. Put too many months between when one last flew a jet, and they (the airlines companies) are no longer interested, military experience or not.

I was infatuated with anything Vietnamese. I watched the news, and anything about Vietnam got my attention. I tried numerous times to draw pictures of Flower. Gad-dammit anyhow, I never took any photographs of her. How in the dam-freakin' hell did I miss that!? I went to the library and found books on Vietnam and tried to find anything about the ao dai. I was starved for any of that. I found a little bit of dusty, moldy stuff on Vietnam, but nothing about the ao dai. When I asked the librarian about references for the ao dai, the response was "the what-what?" I was trying to find a photo of one so maybe I could use it as a reference and draw a better picture.

I thought about the feasibility of finding other Vietnamese women. There were some in town. But I rejected that idea because, 1, my heart belongs to Flower, no other. And 2, it's not because Flower is Vietnamese. It is because Flower is Flower! She's different from other Vietnamese. Very untypical. So, no, being Vietnamese was not it. Besides, due my ineptness with women, I doubt if any of the Vietnamese women in town would have given me the time of day any more than the other ones. And finally, 3, I had NOT given up on finding Flower. No way! I didn't have a clue as to how to start, but I was not giving up on finding Flower!

Dad was a "lot of help" in saying, at the supper table one evening after listening to me go on about Flower and things Vietnamese and so on, he said, "I really think you should dismiss Flower and any Vietnamese woman. Find a nice American woman from around here. You really shouldn't marry foreigners."
"YEAH SURE!" I sulked, "Dam freakin' fat chance! Those sorry-ass cretins don't even give me the gad-dammed time of day!"
"They never will with that attitude!", my father admonished.
"This attitude", I insisted, "has developed because of their attitude toward me! Not one freakin' gad-dam date all through high-school! Dam sorry-ass turds wouldn't give me the time of day no matter what I did! Flower is the only woman in this whole dam world that had anything to do with me! Vietnamese or not! I'll never find another like her!"

At that point I felt tears welling up so I excused myself from the supper table and left. I think my father was about to admonish me for cussing too much. (Well, I'm military; we're supposed swear. Aren't we?)
I went outside to walk in the late-summer evening. The sun had set behind the Rockies to the west and it was "blue-dark." Thank the heavens at least for the fact that I lived in the country, and there was nothing better than the country meadows and woods of the wilderness to sooth my soul. I could sob away out there and I felt like, sort of, that the trees and things felt it and understood. In fact, there was a certain tree I would sit under.

It took weeks and then months for me to get over some of that. I finally, with some hesitation, began my efforts of getting into the airlines. Already a couple responded that the time since I left the Air force was too long ago. Gees, what a bunch of lunkheads. That's not going to matter worth a shit. Just give me the gad-dam training and I'll be fine! Really, sometimes the "job-world" can be awfully jerk-assed!

Anyway, one of those fools finally did see the truth and hired me. I then went into their training time and did very well. That finally got my mind off of Flower somewhat. Learning airlines flying is complicated and involved, let me tell you! Being technical minded, the complexities of airlines flying was just right for me. Actually better than flying fighter jets, I thought. As I got more and more absorbed into the studies, my mood lightened up. But I was far from over Flower.

So anyway, things progressed and I was finally actually flying. Positions of "navigator" or "co-pilot" were encountered a lot, but that's okay. Co-pilot is fine. I wasn't ready for top responsibilities yet. The salary was not yet what you always hear about for airline pilots, but it was fine for me.

I asked for Pacific routes. That would put me sort of "close(?)" to parts of the world I associated with Flower, which kind of resonated with me. I was doing land routes for a couple years. Then I was transferred to "base" (where I would "live" and have a home in) in San Francisco, and then I was navigator for a flight going from San Francisco to Honolulu. I had been co-pilot, so I sorta had to step back a bit to get a Pacific route. But of course, these are bigger planes, bigger distances, and going over vast expanses of ocean where there is no backup landing field should something go wrong.
Did you know that it is as far from San Francisco to Honolulu as it is to cross the entire United States from coast to coast? That's over 2000 miles, and every bit of it is over ocean that averages over 2 miles deep. There are no islands, no nothing over all that distance. The flight takes only 5 hours, which is really something in itself, but there is absolutely no room for mistakes.

That's sort of where the navigator comes in. To the untrained eye, you look around out the windows of the airlines jet, and all you see is this great expanse of dark blue below, and light blue with clouds level and above. And you are having to hit upon a tiny island that's hardly 40 miles long.

Well anyway, so I was in my element, and I was in a job I really liked. It was a joy to go to work, unlike many people who find going to work an absolute bummer.

Now, did you note above, "2 years?" Yes, 2 years, actually a little over 2 years. No Flower. Due to the training and then the job itself, time went by kind of fast. But it would dawn on me sometimes, especially when by myself in the hotel room in Honolulu (You see, we go to Honolulu one day, then the next day we go back to San Francisco. Two complete trips of those are done a week. I weekend in San Francisco). But it would come to me suddenly at times, that it has been years since I last saw Flower. I would sadden up again sometimes to sobbing. Hmm, hmm, hmm! Definitely not over her in all that time! Then I wondered how Flower herself was. I mean, the big gal really seemed to be taken with me. If she was feeling anything like I was feeling, but she didn't have a place in the country to hike, no privacy, and no occupation to keep her mind off it... OH! It must be terrible for her! Sometimes I'd sob myself to sleep thinking about it. But then, come the morning, and I was ready for another flight. Everyday was a little different. Wind changes, weather, seasons; all keeps the pilots on their toes.

Well, time marched on. My Pacific routes were expanded to an interesting circle that went from San Francisco to Honolulu, then Honolulu to Tahiti, then from Tahiti to Guam and then to Honolulu again, and to San Francisco. I was co-pilot on most of those, navigator on a few. Honolulu to Tahiti is something else; over 3000 miles of ocean flying. I got to see the Southern Cross for the first time ever. Going to the southern hemisphere is interesting because the night skies are completely different. No matter where you go in the northern hemisphere, the skies are the same. Why, the planet Earth gives one a daily and yearly tour. But you go to the southern hemisphere, and man, the stars are completely different. Good bye big dipper, north star, and that kite-looking thing (Gemini), among others. Hello Southern Cross and other southern hemisphere "star personalities."
But still no Flower. And no lady friends either.

At least my ability to draw Flower or women like her had improved. I actually took weekend art classes in San Francisco. I either drew her naked or wearing ao dai. I would also draw women similar to Flower and later, any woman. They all tended to be muscular. My Father would say, "Son, women don't have muscles like that!" Nah, you never saw Flower, I thought. To be sure, I exaggerated Flower's muscles some... or a lot.

Year went by and it became 1980. Then 1981. I got a computer and attempted to make a "computer bulletin board system (CBBS)", or just "BBS" with it. I was trying, quite frankly, to see if I could find anyone, like myself, who had the following interests, and preferably at the same time: "muscle women", human powered transportation (not just bicycles but innovative types, like recumbent trikes and even "pedal cars" (later to be known as velomobiles)), and living in a land where there are no cars, no big dogs, and nudity is freely allowed.

Ever since being on that island with Flower I had relished nudity or skimpy dress. But so few places went for it. I thought maybe Tahiti did, but no, they tend to be stuck up Christianized moralists. San Francisco was just about the only place I knew where I could go to a beach in a very brief men's bikini or perhaps even, g-string. I kept myself fit to maintain the ability to wear one.

I tried to use a bicycle where ever I went, but it was not always possible. In San Francisco, there were too many cars. I managed it, but sometimes it was no fun. On islands (like Tahiti and Guam), one gets chased by dogs if you stray too far into the rural areas. Within town is okay. Also, no wearing a bikini when riding; their silly society does not accept it, especially if it is a man. I wish those islanders would embrace the ways of their ancestors. Back then, they dressed appropriately for their tropical islands, skimpy. Now they dress like somebody in Massachusetts or something. Like, yo! It's 90 degrees in the shade in those islands! Dammit! Dress your traditional native way, for Pete's sake! It fits your climate!
But then, from what I saw, so many of those islanders would not want to wear anything revealing because most of them are so out of shape due to the effects of using cars and western diet. Polynesians used to have beautiful physiques. And why oh why in gad-dam hell do they allow cars on tiny islands!? I can get across most of those islands in a sneeze on a bicycle! There's no room or need for cars there! Of course, if you do go town to town, prepare for the dog pursuits. HMMM! That's one thing I'd like to see banned and eliminated!

Well, so I started a BBS that sort of promoted those ideals. I just wondered if anybody thought the way I did. Later, I posted stories about muscle women on the BBS. The first story was about my experience with Flower. Parts of it are seen in this very account you have been reading. Then I wrote more or less "general" stories about muscle women. In 1982 and 1983, I attempted to draw pictures of muscle women and/or Flower's face in the form of line drawings into a computer and store it as a file. This is before GIF was widespread and before scanners. I had to do my own programming in "C." And this was all before Internet. I managed to get some "electric drawings" out, but they were time consuming. Then I came up with a method where my users could log off the bbs and dial another number to get a "fax-on-demand" of one of my drawings. This was a faxed version of a drawing. The fax would scan the drawing upon request from the caller. It was clumsy and not without problems, but it got my drawings out to folks who wanted them. All was free. Also for free was a simple offering on my BBS where a catalogue of picture descriptions were listed, and I would send a large photograph copy of one of my drawings. This allowed me to get drawings in color and backgrounds out. It turned out somewhat popular. It was all free anyway, so I guess it would be popular.

I ran this BBS from my apartment home in San Francisco. Later I set up a duplicate BBS in Colorado Springs at my parents' house, but the fax-on-demand would mean a long-distance call to San Francisco. And of course, there was still the free service where I would mail a photograph copy.

You see, in the first half of the 1980s, a BBS, unless it was big, was limited to the local calling area. Oh, you could call a BBS in another town, but one would incur a long distance charge. Fortunately, San Francisco is very, very big. There is a huge local-calling audience. Colorado Springs is not so big. But there were a lot of "free thinkers" around that found the content of my BBS intriguing. The two computers were not linked, but I kept them sort of linked by regularly sending my parents a 5-1/2-inch floppy which they would copy to the hard drive of my BBS computer in their home. They also had to restart that computer anytime they noticed it was "hung up." My BBS computer in San Francisco would do it too. I don't know why that happened so much. It sure was annoying. Sometimes I'd be gone on my piloting routes for well over a week, and when I got home, it might be hung up. One time it apparently hung up only hours after I left, so the dam thing was hung up for the entire almost 2 weeks, which meant that BBS was off line all that time. Dammit.

Okay, one more thing before I turn this back over to Herenui, the gal who is "master writer" of this account...
In early 1980, I bought something called the "Landspeeder." It was an actual pedal car (velomobile)! It was a very early design of one, done in the USA no less. It was a recumbent trike with a streamlined faring attached. It was sold as a kit (that I had to assemble) by an experimenter of human powered vehicles in Connecticut. It was the coolest bicycle I ever had up to that time. It was fast, and it protected me from gad-dammed dogs. Now I could breeze down the country roads around Colorado springs without worrying about attacks from dam, stupid dogs. It had a much bigger "presence" on the road which made car drivers pay more attention.

To be sure, the Landspeeder was not perfect. You still had to carry things in, at least, bags or pouches. Small articles could roll out the wheel cutouts. And puddles would be splashed in through the wheel cutouts from the front wheels. And it was notoriously hard to service because of the fairing. But it sure was fun. It was also warmer for cold winter days in Colorado.
It was kept at my parents' house. Streets of San Francisco were too crowded for me to use it there.

Now, one more thing, and this just makes me sick! To think of how close I came!...

One fine, cool autumn day of cobalt-blue skies, about September 1980, I was breezing down a bicycle route (or multi-use route) near Colorado Springs. It was during one of the numerous times I visited my parents. Colorado Springs and vicinity have a pretty good bicycle route system. Anyway, this route is for human-powered stuff only; bicycles primarily, along with joggers, skaters, skate-boarders, and hikers. Stupid dogs were supposed to be on a leash.

Now remember, my Landspeeder, which looked like a 3-wheeled torpedo, was a rare bird indeed. Probably the only one in Colorado Springs at the time. Sure did draw a lot of attention.
So I was zooming down the route, when out from behind some bushes stepped a tall, great looking woman. Dressed in very short jogging shorts and brief tank-top that revealed a tummy full of wash-board abs, she rather carelessly entered the bike route without looking. Perhaps she was mesmerized by the glorious day and weather. And it was very scenic there. But I don't think she was expecting anything to come zooming at her at 25 mph. Anyway, I dammed near ran her over. Well, I don't think I would have "run her over" in the classical sense, there is not nearly enough room underneath the Landspeeder for that. The Landspeeder has a very tapered, streamlined front. What I think would have happened is that it would have bowled her over. She probably would have landed in the bushes. She would have received minor bruises, scratches, and scrapes, and possibly have gotten smacked by the rearview mirrors. (I hit a German shepherd with the mirror once. It was attacking me from the side just as I passed at over 20 mph, and the rearview mirror slammed right into its stupid face. When it yelped in pain, running away, I really felt good, and thought, "Serves you right, shit-head! What in the hell are ya attacking me for anyway, dummy!") Well anyway, I wouldn't have wanted that great looking gal to get hit by the mirrors.
Anyway, she saw me in the glint of her peripheral vision, saw that something large was coming at her fast, and with her well-muscled legs, she leapt out of the bicycle route to the grass just in the millisecond nick of time! At the same time, I swerved sharply, causing the Landspeeder to ride on 2 wheels; in other words, I almost rolled. After squeaking past her I swerved back, putting the Landspeeder back on all 3 wheels. Man, that was a close one!

I heard her shout something, I didn't hear what it was, but then, I'm just as glad I didn't hear it. Needless to say I hadn't a snowball's chance in hell to get to know that looker after that. Women don't give me the time of day even under perfect conditions, and certainly this one was incensed at me for nearly running her down on a route that is supposed to be free of cars. I am assuming she thought I was some kind of small car. So I just kept pedaling on. I tried to get another look at her and maybe her face through my rearview mirrors but they were jiggling around too much to see anything clearly.

And dam! What a lost opportunity I thought at the time. She was so tall, well built, and athletic. Like Flower. From what little I saw of her, she struck me as strong-willed and dominant. Also like my lost Flower. So I lost that opportunity, and my missing of Flower was renewed by the time I got home from the ride. Hm, hm, hmm...

Now just wait until Herenui continues the story and gives a bit of Flower's side... yes, you will have the luxury of knowing what Flower went through, just a brief summary, some in her own words, during this unfortunate time.

Anyway, so I'm going to turn it back over to Herenui now, and conclude with that I have taken my part of the situation to 1983 when I had all those Pacific routes, lived in San Francisco but visited my parents' home every chance I got, ran those BBSes, and rode the Landspeeder whenever I went to my parents' home. The BBSes were drawing more and more interest and attention. Not to mention I spent considerable amounts of money advertising them. I was willing to go through any expense to find anybody that was remotely similar to me in ways, attitudes, likes, and dislikes.

Herenui, take it away!

* - * - *

Herenui with you again to continue the account at the point when Flower, sobbing away and being led by her guide and interpreter, stumbled down the walkway to board the jet that would take her to USA through stops in Guam and Hawaii.

Flower's side of this was told to me by me interviewing Flower herself.

A tall woman, beautifully dressed in a white ao dai with tiny flower patterns and sobbing, and loudly at that, turns a lot of heads. By this time, most people were seated. Flower's guide, Nguyen Thi Phuong, firmly and gently led Flower past all those staring people, most of whom were Vietnamese, to their assigned seats. She found it and it was a window seat, thank goodness. They had asked for window seating. Phuong invited Flower in first so she would be next to the window. Then Phuong slid in after her. That allowed Flower to at least have some privacy during her time of separation grief.

Phuong gave Flower the pillow from her seat to add to the pillow that had been supplied at Flower's seat. Flower held on to them as she leaned against the wall and window and wept. She was crying more softly now, perhaps calming down some. Phuong leaned over and rubbed Flower's broad back.

Obviously translating the speech, Phuong, still rubbing Flower's back, asked Flower, "Now, won't this be interesting? I heard that you are a pilot. This flight will take us over many thousands of miles to a tiny island. We'll be flying very high!"
"Uh-huh", Flower mumbled weakly.
Well, she seemed to be calming a bit, so Phuong let her be but kept rubbing Flower's back.

When the plane at last got moving, Flower seemed to perk up a bit. After all, indeed being a pilot, this must be interesting to her.

The plane taxied slowly down the taxiway, got to the end, turned and waited. Then, having apparently been given clearance, they began the takeoff roll. Phuong stopped rubbing Flower's back and got centered in her seat with belts buckled. She checked to see that Flower's seat belts were buckled.
The engines "spooled up", began to sound like a rocket blasting off, and they were all pressed back into their seats. Ground whizzed by, then a heave upward and the ground left them way below. Show time!

That all perked Flower's interest. Through reddened, teary eyes she gazed with interest at the events going on outside. This is what Phuong hoped for.

After takeoff, events outside begin to slow down. The ground, and now, ocean, was way below in bluish haze. The sky was a royal blue with towering, gleaming white cumulus clouds piling up. The ground haze, or perhaps it was pollution, was below them.

Flower sat quietly, her eyes fixated to the outside.
"You okay, pretty lady?", Phuong asked gently.
"Uh-huh", Flower only mumbled.
Phuong began lightly scratching Flower's back. Flower seemed to like it because she sort of leaned back a little and Phuong could see her eyes are closed. Phuong had told Flower that she admired the sturdy feel of Flower's wide, strong back.

To note, I managed to interview Phuong by telephone, to more accurately get her side of things and descriptions of details that Flower may have missed due to her emotions at that time.

Almost an hour later, Phuong and Flower were staring out the window, noting that they were passing over some land with mountains. As Flower held the pillows, she mumbled in English, "See, pretty Alexsa, those are Philippines..."
"Hmm?", Phuong asked.
"Nothing, sorry...", Flower quietly replied.
Phuong smiled and rubbed Flower's back again. She alternated between rubbing and light scratching. Phuong leaned forward to see Flower's face, and yes, Flower seemed to be responding positively. Her reddened eyes were closed.

Then meals began to be handed out. Ah yes, eats! Phuong was hungry. She gently tapped Flower, "Wake up, big, pretty gal, time to eat!"

It was encouraging to Phuong to see that Flower ate well, hungrily even.

"Are you getting over your sadness, pretty lady? After all, this is just temporary. In some weeks, maybe a month or two wasn't it, you all will be together again!"
"Uh-huh", Flowered replied, smiling. She was still sniffling, though.

Flower seemed to be okay after that, although Phuong heard her cry quietly a few times. But she also mostly slept, which is good.

The flight to Guam completed with the landing there which was interesting. Guam was a cloud-speckled jewel in the middle of all that vastness of blue. The last part of the landing had them flying through cumulus clouds. That was interesting and when they passed through a cloud, they could clearly see just how fast the jet was moving. And at that point, it was already slowed way down from what it had been. As they entered each cloud, the plane got buffeted, sometimes rather severely.

Flower's attention was riveted as she watched the ground grow closer and observed how the pilot handled the aircraft.
The aircraft flared a bit and the main gear made contact with a whomp. Gently the front came down with another whomp. Immediately the reverse thrusters of the engines engaged. Flower even pointed that out. Their seat was somewhat behind the engines so that Flower could see the reverse thrusters go into position. It looks like the rear cover of the engine comes back and closes, thus reflecting the thrust forward, which means the it is forcing the airplane back; or that is, slowing it down.
Flower pointed that out to Phuong. Phuong, happy to see Flower's mood perked up, replied, "Yes, Miss Bich", (beek) "I see!"
Actually Phuong did not quite know what she was looking at, but she played along with Flower's lightening mood.

Brakes were applied too and the aircraft slowed way down. After a bit, they turned off the runway and went down the taxiway.

After getting off the plane it was to immigration for some processing. Guam was already United States, a territory of it, and so part of the business of being accepted into United States would begin here. So once again, it was hurry up and wait, hurry up and wait. Filling out of forms. Then at last, they went back on the same plane which had already refueled. Everyone sat in the same seat assignments.

The takeoff sequence again, and then they were on the way to Honolulu, Hawaii, and this would be the longest leg of the trip, nearly 4000 miles. This part would have two meals, probably the finest ones.

Flower opened up more to Phuong, and they talked about things, like their backgrounds. Flower was a farmer way up in northeast North Vietnam, living near the sea, for example, and Phuong had been an assembler in an electronics factory in or near Saigon. And of course, they talked about living on that desert island. Flower did not speak of all that went on... and what she did to Alex... and some other things, but they had plenty to talk about nonetheless.

During this part of the flight, they passed into night. By the time they landed in Honolulu, it was late at night for them. Generally, on Pacific flights going east, you pass through a "fast night".

In Honolulu, they could stay on the plane, or get off. They had an hour and a half. They could get off and shop or eat a bit. However, some shops and restaurants were closed because it was past midnight local time.

Many of the Vietnamese got off the plane for good, having apparently reached their destination. Many Americans got on in their place. When returning to the plane, Phuong and Flower returned to the same seats.

They took off into the blackness of night, which was interesting in itself. Once in flight, they turned the lights low so people could sleep. Flower kept an eye out the window and upward at the stars. She pointed that out to Phuong. "On the island where pretty Alexsa and I lived, the stars were that bright!"
"That must have been beautiful!", Phuong commented.

When they landed in San Francisco, the sky was already "blueing" up as it was very early morning, but still some time before sunrise. Maybe something like 5 a.m.

So the "fun part" was over. Flower, having been a fighter pilot, must have found the flight interesting. But now the confusion and unknown starts up.
First thing that had to be done is... hurry up and wait!

It was 5 a.m. so no one was up or open. They all had to wait around the airport until some folks from one of the halfway houses came to greet them.
At this point, even Flower's guide, Phuong, did not know what was going to happen next. She interpreted, helped Flower fill out forms, and generally just kept by her side during this somewhat unnerving time. Actually Phuong needed company a bit too. And big Flower was at least kind of like, intimidating, perhaps. She was, after all, 6 feet 2 tall and dressed in a very attractive, stylish ao dai. Most of the Vietnamese there were not so dressed. Flower was an eyeful and turned heads where ever she went. Phuong, at a typical 5 foot 2 and 105 pounds, felt physically protected next to Flower.

It was confusing over the next few days, but Flower and Phuong and the others were settling into their temporary situation.
One thing that was accomplished over those days is a bank account was opened for Flower to deposit her very ample check from the United States. She also received priority processing to become an American citizen.

After a couple weeks, Flower had citizenship and quite a bit of money, which, if she wanted, could free her from the halfway house. Flower rented her own place so she could have a private telephone. She ended up finding a place way outside of San Francisco in order to find an acceptable rate. She invited Phuong to live with her.

Flower ended up finally in a not too bad place which was in the country, and really some 100 miles east of San Francisco, so she was not actually in San Francisco at that point. That effected the ability to find jobs, but Phuong managed to find a waitress job and then, at the same restaurant, "crowbar" Flower in to be dish washer and other non-speaking duties. Flower could have just lived off her money, but that would have wasted it.

Finally, Flower set to the task of calling and writing Alex's parents... But she could not find the paper his information was written on!!

That destroyed all efforts to even begin to contact Alex's parents! Flower and Phuong looked everywhere for that paper. They even went back to the halfway house. But it was gone. Apparently misplaced and/or dropped, it was gone, gone, gone.

Flower became desperate. She did not report to work a couple times as she tried desperately to find that paper. But no success. Somehow, it had just slipped away.

"I'm going to Colorado Springs in Colorado!", Flower declared to Phuong (in Vietnamese), "You want to come with me?"
"Sure...", Phuong agreed. If she did not, her big "sister" would not be by her side anymore. Besides, Flower needed Phuong's interpretation skills.

At least Flower knew that much. She knew Alex's parents were in Colorado Springs. She did not know where Colorado Springs was, but she darn sure was going to find out.

Well, upon finding out that Colorado Springs was something like 700 miles to the east, that is where she went. They had lived in their rented place all of about a week and a half before they left.

Colorado Springs is a "university town" and has considerable cultural diversity. That included a community of Vietnamese. Rents were not nearly so high as in San Francisco. Flower also observed that there was considerable bicycle usage in Colorado Spring which she thought was nice. Flower did not want to get into buying a car yet, but gladly bought a new bicycle which gave her freedom of movement without relying on buses and taxis. She got a bicycle for Phuong too.

Late at night, Flower sometimes cried over not being able to find Alex's parents, but other than that, she was otherwise 90 percent warrior, the same spirit that urged her into becoming a fighter pilot. Phuong became a "surrogate" Alexsa. Sleeping in the same bed, and Flower slept naked, Flower held Phuong in her arms. Phuong felt a bit uncomfortable with that at first, but came to like it... Especially when Colorado Springs turned cold for autumn, something neither of those ladies were used to. On a chilly night, being held by Flower felt really nice!

Flower did everything to find Alex's parents but nothing was successful. The Vietnamese community tried to help. But without a complete name, they were lost.

None of the conventional things that usually work for finding someone were working, so Flower thought she would try the unconventional.
In her reckoning, Alex himself should be returning soon. That means is that he would be somewhere around there.

"I'm already kinda big and pretty strong", assessed Flower one evening with Phuong, "already people stare at me where ever I go..."
"You are very attractive!"
"And tall, like a tower..."
"And gorgeous in those ao dais of yours!"
"I know what I'll do!", Flower declared, "I'll become a muscle woman and get on the news! Yes! Pretty Alexsa loved me because I was strong anyway. He'll surely find me!"

Phuong was not to sanguine about that. She commented, "Are you sure about that? How will you become a... muscle woman?"
"I'll buy a weight set and bench, like I seen around..."

The idea of women working out with weights was a new thing in the early to mid 1970s but was catching on. It would become to be very popular in the following decades.

Flower indeed purchased a very good exercise bench and weights and installed it in the tiny place they rented.

By that time, they had already moved 3 times. The latest move was to a low-priced place to rent that was somewhat in the country but along a bicycle route. Flower did not wish to be pushed into getting a car. She liked using her bicycle more and more. That became her chief transportation. Each time, Phuong would move with her.

Already tall, statuesque and somewhat muscular, Flower worked out on the bench to become more muscular. She bought revealing clothes like extra short exercise shorts and revealing tank-tops.
Flower even got into a job which was somewhat "muscular." She saw a box truck for sale for a low price that she could handle. Against the advice of Phuong, she bought it and began to offer services as an economy mover for small moves.

Flower had to hurry and at least get a regular driver's license and later, a chauffeur license for operating a truck for hire. With the help of the Vietnamese community and Phuong with the English, she accomplished this while yet sneaking in some moving services for a few who contacted her.

As this little venture grew, men around the community got word of it and desired to hire this attractive, well-built lady with an attractive, strong Asian face who did not mind revealing her gorgeous body with skimpy clothing. She was surprisingly able to handle some pretty heavy objects, or came up with smart ways to handle something too heavy for her.

She even hired a helper. She tried to get Phuong to help, but alas, tried though she did, there is only so much a delicate little lady of 5 foot 2 at 105 pounds can do.

Of several applicants who responded, Flower trusted only women. The applicants actually came to the rental apartment complex, found that truck, (actual apartment number was not given!) and were interviewed by Flower and Phuong there. Phuong helped with English.
One day, a dark-skinned woman who was 6 feet 3 and 240 pounds came in. Skimpily dressed in denim super-brief short-shorts and brief tank-top, Flower looked her well-muscled form up and down and hired on the spot.

Now guys hiring Flower's little moving service had their eyes delighted with two well-built women, one tall and slender with a pretty Asian face, and another "bruiser" of a muscle woman with truly huge muscles. She had 24-inch arms. She could heave a refrigerator around by herself with little or no help.

Flower was fascinated with this muscle gal, who only identified herself as Yvonne.
"I'm actually kind of... find her sexy", Flower confided during supper at home with Phuong one evening.
Phuong replied, "Are... are you giving up on finding Alexsa?"
"NEVER! No, no, no! He needs me! But Yvonne is... special..."

It appeared then, that Flower's new life was settled. With her delicate friend Phuong, and with her muscular friend Yvonne, and her moving service, she lived in Colorado Springs in a pretty much comfortable manner.

Flower and Phuong were curious about Yvonne and maybe you might be too a little bit. Yvonne did not speak much of her past but after a long time, and while Flower's English was improving, Yvonne seemed to trust Flower more and more. She finally confided to Flower that she had been in jail once for severely beating up a man for trying to rape her. The courts would not believe that it was self defense. It was a white man against a woman of "color", so to speak, in a court. We all know how those situations often go. At least it was "only" a year. And what was this "color"? Yvonne was part north American Indian and Korean. Other than that, Yvonne herself did not know where her genetics for being so big and muscular came from.

Months went by, then a year. A year and some months. No Alex nor his parents.

Another year...

Another year...

Flower's moving service grew in popularity to the point she did not know how to manage the growth. She finally, after a long search, added another "muscle woman." The second one went by Jane and was Afro-American. She stood 6 feet 4 and weighed 250 pounds, making her slightly bigger than Yvonne. Phuong was "drafted" into moving service again. Phuong and Flower moved the lighter stuff while the two muscle babes handled the big stuff.
Flower treated both big ladies well because they were fascinating to her and she was sexually attracted to them.

Flower more and more stole every chance she could to feel over Yvonne's or Jane's muscles. Flower would roll herself around on them and smile really pretty. Neither one of them knew what to do with their admiring boss, but they knew a job with good pay when they had one. Flower bought meals for them, and payed them amounts that exceeded what she kept as income.

Flower's attempts at becoming a "muscle woman" were not entirely successful, but she managed a set of slender, sleek muscles that were very attractive. Not all guys are turned on by the "heavy-weights" such as Yvonne and Jane. Flower began ordering special "modified" ao dais custom made for her. They excluded the usual long pants that go underneath, and they were sleeveless. That displayed her attractive arms. Dressed in such a modified ao dai, Flower was resplendent. Breeze blew the halves of the ao dai, split to the waist remember, this way and that, revealing or covering in a teasing, enticing manner, Flower's long, well-muscled legs. That plus her sexy arms and long, flowing, black hair, and being 6 feet 2 inches tall, she was eye candy for guys indeed.

Finally, she did end up on local television. She was interviewed for a local special interest program. In it, her physical attributes were explored as well as her moving business. She made sure to say over the air (recorded before) "I'm here, Alexsa! Call my business number!"
During the interview, she of course mentioned that she was looking for Alex and had been for a long time.

Unfortunately, however, the show was one of those obscure, little-known shows that come on independent television stations early on Saturday morning. Neither Alex nor his parents saw it apparently, because none of them ever called.

Year after year went by. Flower appeared on television one other time. Though brief, it did appear on the 6-o-clock news. They edited out Flower's plea for Alex to call due to time constraints and maybe, FCC rules. But it showed her, her pretty Asian face with that long, flowing black hair, skimpily dressed, gorgeous body then dressed in a modified ao dai, and her moving service. But again, no response.

Phuong had to move away as she was finally developing a career of her own. Flower's English had progressed to a fluent, though accented level. Flower was sad to see her delicate little friend move away, but she did not move that far; just to Denver. Flower felt alone in her apartment by herself. After a lot of begging to both Yvonne and Jane, Jane finally moved in with Flower.

Flower and Phuong used to sleep together, so she imposed the same arrangement on Jane. Actually, Flower could not wait! Jane was a bit unnerved by this, but she went with it.

"Aren't you worried I might roll over you during the night, honey?", Jane asked Flower.
Flower sweetly replied, "Oh, you won't do that! You're so gentle, you'll be even in your sleep!"
"Okay honey!", Jane giggled and then lay to sleep.

Flower slept between Jane and the wall which had a window there just over the bed. That arrangement made Flower feel snug.

Flower behaved herself that night and a few more nights, but then Jane began to copy Flower's habit of sleeping naked.
So Jane and Flower were both in bed with lights out, but moon beams coming in the window. Flower snuggled close to the big Jane and felt over Jane's muscles... then tits.
"Girl, you bettuh stop that!", Jane chuckled.
Flower just giggled and stopped diddling Jane's tits with her fingers but then crawled over Jane's front and kissed them, a hard, sucking kiss.
"Now lookuh here, girl! I said you bettuh stop that shit. You're gettin' me... gettin' me goin'!"
"You're gonna rape me?", Flower giggled as she snuggled all over Jane.
"You bettuh be glad I ain't no man, girl, or I'd would be a-raping ya!"
"You turn me on! What can I do!", huffed Flower as she grew more and more libidinous over Jane.
"But whatchu tink I'm supposed to do all heated up like dis!?", Jane insisted, getting just a bit serious.

Flower boldly felt between Jane's big, brown, muscular legs.
"Oooo! Soppin' wet!", Flower breathed in exclamation.
"Of course! Witchu messin' around like that, whatchu expect!? If I was a man, I'd rape yo ass!

Flower was all over Jane, licking her, nipping her, kissing every where, and messing with Jane's tits and labias. Flower straddled one of Jane's propped up legs once and rubbed her own wet labias over it.
"What am I gonna do wit chu, girl?", Jane chuckled but in a voice effected by libido.
"Want to try an experiment?", Flower suggested, clenching her little fist, "I think it'll work because you are so big and strong!"
"Whatchu talkin' about?"
"I push this up your big hole!", Flower daringly suggested while waving her fist around.
It was not the usual fist. She had it clenched in a way that all her nails were buried under fingers and thumb.

"You sayin' push that in my... that's fistin', girl! You wanna fist me?"
"It will be like being fucked by a huge cock!", Flower asserted with an impish laugh.
"I... I don't know, girl! I nevuh... Is all yo Vietnamese like this? What kinda hoes are y'all!?"
"Not all Vietnamese! Just me!", Flower laughed.
"I believe it! I believe it, girl!"
"Let's do it!", Flower insisted with an impish grin, "Slide up here like this..."

Jane was not to sure about that, but she slid up to the corner of the bed so that her cunt was flush with the corner of the bed. This made it possible for Flower to kneel between Jane's big legs, brace herself on them, and plunge her fist into Jane's swollen, juiced up labias.

A nervous but sexually aroused Jane complied. She spread her big legs wide for the insertion of Flower's relatively dainty fist. Flower eased it in allowing Jane's labias and hole to open up. She worked it deep as Jane groaned out her pleasure.

Well, that trap had sprung. Jane was getting into it and enjoying it. Flower went to work plunging her fist deep into Jane. Being a woman, Jane knew where all the hot spots were and used that knowledge for best effect.
It was not long before Jane screeched powerfully loud as orgasm avalanched violently through her. With an almost wicked smile on her face, Flower drove Jane mercilessly through two more orgasms before she finally slowed down. Jane was spent, and considerable cunt juice was on the corner of the bed, on the floor, and all over Flower's forearm and hand.

"You just stay quiet, big girl", Flower gently urged, "I'll take care of everything."

Flower cleaned up Jane, the bed and floor and of course herself. Jane pushed herself back on the bed and relaxed in the warmth of gratification.

Just as Jane was passing into sleep, she was awakened by furious activity from Flower who was across the room.

"What is that?", Jane asked, suddenly wide-eyed.

Flower was sexually relieving herself by humping furiously by what appeared to be an erected cock, a fake one, clamped to a chair. Flower was unable to answer any questions as she was screeching through an orgasm. She went on to two more before easing the cock out of her cunt.

After cleanup, Flower showed Jane what that contraption was.
"I made it! I think of pretty Alexsa, but cannot find him. My cunt wants him. But I cannot find him. So I carved and made this..."

Through sleepy but interested eyes, Jane beheld a beautifully carved wooden erected cock which had been heavily lacquered to shining luster. It was attached to a holder with clamps so that it could be affixed on any available object.
The cock itself was highly lacquered wood, but Jane had noticed that a black thing had been over it while Flower was humping on it.
"I put a condom with bumps on it to protect it. The condom like cock skin. These bumps make it feel extra good!"

She meant "the condom is like cock skin"; her English, though greatly improved, did still have deficiencies here and there.

Jane took a look at that, shook her head and said, "Girl, yo is a sex-fiend hoe! That's all they is to it!"
"I like to fuck!", Flower simply and strongly stated, "I cannot find pretty Alexsa, so I... temp... orary use this! Temporary use this!"

"Good lord have mercy, girl! Yo is somethin' else! Now get in this here bed before I smack yo ass! We gots to get some sleep. We have that big move tomorrow!"

Flower happily hopped and skipped across the room, after putting away her... fake cock, over to Jane and giggled, "Okay, big mamma!"

Flower climbed over Jane to get to her side of the bed next to the window. She snuggled up next to Jane and declared in a cooing voice, "You so big strong! I feel safe with you!", then followed with a bunch of kisses on Jane's muscular shoulder and arm.
"Hold me, please?", Flower sweetly begged Jane.
"Girl!", Jane chuckled, "Well, okay..."

Jane shifted position and took up Flower in her arms. Flower snuggled with cooing sounds of delight and enjoyed. In moments she was asleep.

Jane sure did act differently around Flower the next morning.
"That sho was nice, whatchu did for me last night!"
"You enjoy!?", Flower giggled as she swung around and gave the sitting Jane a big hug.

It did not take Yvonne long to notice the difference as she and Jane worked hard moving big, heavy items during a moving job that day. Every chance Flower got, she leaned on Jane and felt over her muscles and was otherwise obviously affectionate.

It would appear that Yvonne wanted some of that. She made sure that Flower saw her muscles flexing when she lifted things. Well, it did not take long before Flower responded. After Yvonne single-handily heaved a big 250-pound through-wall air-conditioner and put it on the truck, and Flower saw those muscles bulging tense, she came over and felt over Yvonne's muscles saying, "My goodness, you are so strong! What would I do without you and Jane!"
Yvonne, dressed in tiny denim short-shorts and a skimpy, thin tank-top that was stuck to her body with sweat, put her big arm around Flower and drew her to Yvonne's bosom for a tight hug. Flower was surprised by this sudden affection from the usually-distant Yvonne, but she enjoyed it immensely. Yvonne was sweating which wet Flower's silk modified ao dai but Flower enjoyed every second of it. Despite being poked by Yvonne's big, erected tits, she closed her eyes and soaked it in.

"Mmmm, you like, melt in my arms!", Yvonne commented.
Flower only cooed soft sounds as her dainty hands explored Yvonne's body.

Yvonne was really getting into hugging and holding Flower when Jane saw it. Jane came over and, with some sharpness in her tone, warned, "Take it easy on her! She's delicate!"
Yvonne sharply retorted, "She's perfectly safe with me!"

Jane appeared to be jealous. She stood back alright, but appeared ready to pounce as soon as there was something she did not like.

"Okay you big ladies", Flower sweetly began saying while she pushed in vain against Yvonne's powerful bosom, "if all is loaded, let's drive on over to their new place."

But when Yvonne continued to hold Flower, Jane warned, "You heard what she said? Let go of her!"
"Get away!", Yvonne retorted as she gave Jane a push.
"Why you hoe! I'll...", Jane began.
Flower interrupted, "No, no, no! Let's have none of that. You two have never fought before! Be nice! Both of you! Now Yvonne, let me go and let me drive you two over to the new place and after that, I'll get you two a nice lunch. Okay?"
"Okay you sweet, sweet cookie", Yvonne cooed, "I never seen anybody as sweet as you!"
Finally Yvonne opened her husky arms letting Flower go. Flower's ao dai had picked up a lot of Yvonne's sweat.

"You hoe!", Jane criticized, "You got her dirty! don't chu have the good sense not to mess her up until you has had a bath?"
"Shut up, bitch!", Yvonne growled.
"I'll smack yo ass good, you..."
Flower jumped in the way of Jane's advance. Jane could have easily pushed Flower aside, but her affection for Flower stopped her completely.
Flower gently leaned on Jane and felt her muscles saying, "Now look, you two before were friends! Do not do these things! Okay?"

Flower then trotted over to Yvonne and stroked her muscles too, saying, "Be nice, you two! I'm your boss, so I order it! Okay?"
"Okay, ya sweet cookie!", Yvonne agreed.
"Yes ma'am", agreed Jane.

But there was a problem. The drive to the new office. As always, Flower drives. Before this day, one or the other of the two big bruiser ladies would end up sitting in the middle of the seat, next to Flower and next to the other big gal. Once or twice Flower observed in the corner of her eye, when the two of them were getting in the cab of the truck, a "3-stooges effect", with both big gals bumping each other to get in the truck first. Flower would say something like, "One at a time, big ladies!", and they would generally allow one or the other to climb in first.
It appears they both loved Flower, but was holding it in because they did not know if Flower would accept affection from them. She is, after all, their boss.

Well today, with Yvonne having just discovered the delight of holding the squeezable Flower and noticing how Flower "melts in her arms", they both wanted intensely to sit next to her.

It looked like Yvonne, the Korean/American-Indian mix gal, was the more belligerent one. (Well, she did spend time in jail for beating up a guy.) Jane, the Afro-American, was just a tad bit heavier and stronger than Yvonne, but she gave way to Yvonne. This time.

So as Flower drove, Yvonne was next to her in the seat. Jane was over there to the right, separated from her new love.

They had been on the highway a while when Yvonne put her big, heavy and sweaty arm around Flower's shoulders. Flower accepted it of course with a pretty smile to Yvonne.
"Yo is dirtying her up, ho!", Jane complained.
Yvonne jabbed her big elbow into Jane's ribs with a "shut up!", and pretty hard too. It shook the seat and effected Flower's driving.

You damned shit-bitch!", yelled Jane, "I'll take you apart with me bare hands!" And then she just about pounced on Yvonne right there.

This really effected Flower's driving, making the truck swerve around.
"STOP IT!", Flower demanded, "I am boss, and I order you to stop it!"

But they kept at it. The two big amazons were starting to duke it out right there in the cab. Yvonne warned Jane, "Somebody'll be pickin' your bones from the desert out there, bitch!"
"It'll be yo bones!", Jane retorted.

Well Flower slammed on the brakes, pulled that truck to a hard stop and off the road, bringing a temporary end to Yvonne's and Jane's fighting as they caught the dashboard to keep themselves from running right into it.

After stopped, Flower ordered and with quite a bit of military authority, "Get out! Both of you!"
She pointed out the right door so they would get out from the "grass-side" of the truck, not the "road side."

Nimble Flower climbed over the gear shifter and out after them. She then grabbed Yvonne's big, thick forearm to hold on and gave Yvonne an out-and-out spanking! Whap!-whap!-whap! on Yvonne's big muscle-butt. Flower made sure to smack exposed butt too. Some of Yvonne's butt was exposed due to the briefness of her "daisy-dukes" short-shorts. Then she let go of Yvonne and did same to Jane. Flower held on to Jane's big, muscular forearm as a brace and then whacked Jane's butt as hard as she could several times. The whacks were muted, however, due to the fact that Jane's short-shorts were not quite as brief as Yvonne's. Almost all butt was covered by denim. But Jane felt it, because when Flower let go, Jane used her hands to rub her butt. It must have stung!

Yvonne was rubbing her butt too and... crying... a little, it seemed. Tears were running down her cheeks.

Flower scolded, "You two act very very big like childs! Now stop this type of thing, or else I will not buy deserts for you!"

"I... I'm sorry!", Yvonne uttered in a voice shaken by almost crying.

Jane looked at Yvonne and commented, "Whatchu... yo is cryin'! Whatchu cryin' fo?"

Flower came up to Yvonne and leaned gently onto her bosom saying softly, "You just stop fight. Okay?"
Yvonne took Flower up in her big arms and hugged. She promised, "I'll not fight, sweet cookie!"
"Good", replied Flower pertly. She gave Yvonne a quick kiss on her lips.

Flower tried to get out of Yvonne's strong arms but they were closed tight.

"Let me go", Flower gently sang, "I must drive!"

This time Jane stood back. Yvonne finally let Flower go.

Flower stepped over to Jane and gently leaned on her bosom saying, "I am so sorry I had to do that. But, you two must not fight."
"I understand perfectly, angel!", Jane agreed heartily, giving Flower a hug, "And, you was right in smackin' both our butts. You did good!"

Flower climbed in the truck first, then beckoned Yvonne, who was still sniffling, to immediately follow. Jane then climbed in last and closed the door.

Jane seemed astounded that Yvonne, with all her fearsome bluster, cried from Flower's spanking. In fact, she began to giggle. But she kept it to herself. When Yvonne eventually put her arm around Flower's shoulders again, Jane held it in and kept silent.

Yvonne's heavy arm pretty much stayed on Flower's shoulders the rest of the way. The two big bruisers sat quietly and behaved the rest of the trip.

When they loaded the furniture and stuff from the truck at the destination, and when there were items that took both Yvonne and Jane to handle, Flower observed carefully that there was no fighting. Everything went okay. The two big ladies have always worked well with each other. However, strangely, a scuffle almost broke out when very heavy but compact items, such as the safe, 280 pounds, and the big through-wall air-conditioner, 250 pounds, were to be moved, Yvonne and Jane both seemed to want to move it. Perhaps because they wanted Flower to see their muscles bulge. Flower would watch with admiration. Both those amazons wanted to be the center of Flower's attention.

Flower, sharp as always, saw and recognized this. When a scuffle over who was going to move the safe seemed to be near breaking out, Flower ordered, "Jane, you take the safe! And when you two get down to it, Yvonne, you take the air-conditioner!"

Being completely obedient to their beloved boss, they did as Flower said.
First Jane with the safe; Flower came up to Jane and felt over Jane's rock-hard, bulging muscles while Jane held the safe and commented, "You are so awesome!"
Then when Yvonne got to the air-conditioner, Flower made sure she was there to watch. In like manner, Flower came up to Yvonne while she held the air-conditioner and felt over Yvonne's bulging muscles. "You are so magnificent!", Flower cooed.

That seem to make both their days. There were some other pretty heavy items. The office guys that did the packing and for whom the move is for, put books into a rather large box which made it really heavy. Jane and Yvonne glared at each other over who would move it. Flower diffused the situation by bringing two new "book boxes" that were folded, expanded and taped them and ordered, "Put half books in this one, and other half books in this one. That is not regulation book-box and is beginning to rupture. It will spill book all over and make big trouble!"
"Yes ma'am", replied Jane.
"Yes, sweet cookie", agreed Yvonne.

After the move was completed, as promised, Flower treated them to a nice lunch at a restaurant which did indeed include deserts.

Now Yvonne wanted to live with Flower.

Flower had to set the rules right away. Flower clearly warned, "You two not fight! Or I will spank your butts until they are red! You will always obey me!"
"Yes ma'am", Jane agreed.
"Yes cookie", Yvonne agreed.

Graceful, relatively delicate Flower kept the peace between those two bone-crushing bruisers. Bed time was simple. Flower slept between them. Flower dictated who would hug her to sleep. Each evening took turns. It wasn't long before Yvonne was treated to Flower's hot fist. In fact, Jane suggested it to her. "Baby, ask Flower to fist you! It's hot!"

Well Flower's little moving business came along fine, with managing growth being her biggest problem. Flower did not really know how to grow it beyond her two big helpers and the one truck.
The two big amazons stuck with Flower faithfully, not only working for her but accompanying her, protecting her, and hugging her to sleep at nights.
Flower had to fist each of those big bruisers every day. Fisting is hard work! It actually helped Flower developed muscles in her arms. But they never got huge like on Yvonne and Jane. Flower's genetics and build just did not support it. But she looked awesome as she was.

A few more years and it was 1980. Still no Alex! Despite all the time, Flower still occasionally would sit on the bed and come to tears. If one or the other of those two big amazons saw her quietly shedding tears, they naturally came up to comfort her, mainly by hugs and holding. They both knew of Alex because Flower had told them of Alex and the time on the island. Flower sure did have a hunger for hugs and being held.

One day Flower was on a bicycle ride with Yvonne and Jane following. Flower had bought high-quality bicycles for both of them. They were riding a scenic bicycle-only route through the country, not far from Colorado Springs.

They stopped for a picnic. They rolled their bicycles off the road and into the grass, behind some bushes. They admired the scene. Then Flower suggested, "Let's picnic up there! It will be even prettier scene and we can watch folks riding their bikes on the trail and stuff."

Across the road was a sharp rise, a hill, that Flower was suggesting they climb a bit and then picnic up there. The two big ladies agreed.

"First, let me see if it can be climb", Flower suggested, motioning for Yvonne and Jane to stay sitting in the grass.

Flower came out from behind the bush. She was crossing the road somewhat obliquely so that one direction of the road was partially behind her. Fortunately, it was not completely behind her, or she would not have seen what was coming...

In the glint of her eye, she noted a rather large object barreling straight at her at a high rate of speed. She did not recognize what it was, but instinctively knew to bound out of the way of something big barreling towards her. With her welled-honed thigh muscles, Flower leapt back just as the object, some sort of small car, barreled past. It had swerved and was about to wipe out itself as it was flying on 2 wheels though it was designed to ride on 4... or rather, 3. It appeared to be 3-wheeled. It swerved back after zooming by, coming back down on all 3 wheels."
"NO CARS, STUPID HEAD!", Flower screamed. Then she wiped her eyes and muttered, "Look that! He pedaling!..."

Indeed, as he sped off, Flower noted two knees flying around and, just barely visible, two cycling shoes whirling. The rider was almost completely covered by the body of the vehicle. There was only a sort of cockpit, not unlike a fighter jet, that the rider's head, shoulders, and hands could be seen. Flower only saw the back of the head and some brownish hair just in front of the form-fitting seat which included a headrest. At the right angle, when standing and behind the vehicle, the knees and feet can barely be seen, which is how Flower saw that he was indeed pedaling.

Yvonne and Jane came running up to save their beloved from whatever it was that seemed to be after her.

"Look at that!", Flower said excitedly, "That is pedal car! A little car that you pedal! Oooo, I very much would like to have one of those!"
"Let's catch him!", suggested Yvonne.
"Yeah!", agreed Jane.
"Ooo, no way! He's streamlined! He's fast! Not can catch!", Flower reminded.
"Oh yeah!?", declared Yvonne, "Let me try!"
"No let me!", Jane argued, "You stay with Flower!"
"No! I'll..."
"Shh! Shhh!", Flower shushed them both. "Never mind! You two argue everything. Now he big gone! Not can catch!"

Flower gave both big gals a gentle peck of a kiss on their lips. That calmed them down.
Flower said, "We go now! Climb hill some. Have picnic!"

So, taking greater care in crossing the bicycle route, they crossed it with their bikes and then climbed up the hill and had a nice picnic. The incident was forgotten except for Flower wanting her own "pedal car."

Flower's search for Alex seemed frustrated. She was not even sure if he was in Colorado Springs any more. She also wanted a "pedal car" of her own. She could not find one anywhere. She went to the biggest and best bicycle stores in Colorado Springs and, not only did they not have one, they never even heard of it.
Flower even began to doubt if she even did see the pedal car that day. It zoomed by so fast, Yvonne and Jane never got a chance to see it. So far it seemed, Flower herself was the only person in the whole wide world that ever saw a pedal car.

As the 1980s progressed on, the computer was becoming more and more popular. Flower heard from other Vietnamese that many things could be done, such as research things, find stuff... and people, maybe. Someone suggested a computer and modem to Flower. She went for it immediately.

With big, muscular Yvonne and Jane looking over her shoulder, Flower took out of the box and set up a new computer and tried it out. It was January of 1982 and cold outside. Many bicycle routes were covered in snow, and it was awfully cold for cycling. A pedal car would solve that. Anyway, that was an excellent time to discover and explore what could be done with a computer.
Flower's natural built in intelligence allowed her to master the computer quickly. Yvonne and Jane were mystified and fascinated. They could only admire their beloved Flower as she explored this new system's possibilities.

Remember in the 1980s, computers were capable mostly of only text. Modems operated at 300 to 1000 baud and it took long to download even just a lengthy written report. Forget graphics. There was a way to get simple line graphics transmitted, but then there was no way to print it out. The 1980s was the time of the "computer bulletin board system (CBBS or BBS)." Most of these were operated by individuals. Many were not on 24 hours a day. In most cases, a BBS could only be accessed locally. Well, one could access one from out of town, but that would incur a long distance telephone charge. Also, because one tended to log on to a BBS for quite some time during a session, the long distance charge tended to be quite large.

Colorado Springs is not a huge city, but it is not small either. There were quite a number of BBSes that could be accessed locally. Most were "geeky" with a lot of "blah-blah-blah" about computer technological this and that or about games.

Finally, about late spring of 1983, Flower found out about and accessed a BBS about "muscle women." This interested Flower because she herself worked out, and her two best friends, Yvonne and Jane, certainly qualified as muscle women.
This BBS mostly had stories about muscle women. It also attempted graphics of muscle women. Via a clumsy system that apparently the sysop (BBS operator) created, line drawings of muscle women could be downloaded. Some line drawings had only the face, and if so, tended to look Asian.
"Looks a little bit like you, girl!", Jane commented to Flower as she looked over her shoulder.

The BBS also had a catalogue of descriptions of art about muscle women and scenery. The pictures were described as photograph copies of full-color colored-pencil renderings of muscle women with scenic backgrounds such as mountains or idyllic tropical islands. And they were offered free! Just for the asking.

Alright then, so Flower submitted an order for a picture that was described as a highly athletically endowed Asian woman with a tropical island background. Another picture was of a muscle woman standing next to her "pedal-car"!

"A pedal car! Just what you've been looking for all dese years!", Jane exclaimed.
"Too bad it is, that the pedal car is not real", Flower replied.
"Maybe there is a real one", suggested Yvonne, "or how could he have drawed it?"
"Just his imagination, Yvonne," responded Jane.

At any rate the order was risk-free. There was no money spent.
But lo and behold, in a few days, the two pictures arrived!
Flower eagerly opened them up. She took the pictures out...

"Dat's you, girl!", exclaimed Jane.

Indeed, all three of them beheld a very good colored-pencil rendering of a tall, statuesque, athletically endowed, "souped up" Asian woman, standing proud and sexy, upon the beach of a tropical island. Her hair was black, smooth, and flowing, and blown by the wind. She was buck-ass naked except for a Vietnamese farmer's hat.

"It's almost like he knows you!", Yvonne commented.
"Yeah...", Flower breathed, mesmerized.

While Flower stared at what practically appeared to be herself in the picture, Yvonne opened up the second one.
"Hey, lookit this!", Yvonne pointed out, "Is that the pedal car you saw?"

Flower broke away from the picture of "herself" to look at the second picture. It consisted of a heavily muscled, huge woman with stoney-muscular thighs standing next to a pedal-car that looked just like the one that almost ran Flower down so long ago. The woman in the picture was definitely not intended to be an Asian. She was heavily muscled with jaw-length blond hair cut "Dutch-boy" style. She too was buck naked.

"Dat's you, Yvonne!", Jane chuckled.
"It's more like you!", Yvonne retorted.
"Yo! Chill out, girl! I was just complementin'!", Jane replied, "but yeah, it could be me, sho nuff. But da color's wrong. I'm darker than that!"
"I ain't got blond hair!", Yvonne reminded.

Flower turned toward those two bruisers and spread her arms out wide to hug them both. "Be quiet, you arguing magpies! Always much argue, you two!"

As usual, Flower's soft, loving touch calmed them both down.

"Now, let me look a look at this...", Flower chuckled as she took the picture from Yvonne.

"Yes, yes!", Flower exclaimed, "That is almost like the pedal-car I saw. But the one I saw did not have fins."

The pedal-car in the picture had fins toward the rear, much like typical early 1960s cars had.
"De artist probably added dose to make mo fancy", Jane suggested.

The three of them mulled over those pictures for quite some time. Flower turned on the computer and got on the muscle woman BBS. There was one story she wanted to download and read at her leisure. She printed out with a dot-matrix printer. She skimmed over the story to get the gist of it. It was about an encounter with a wild North Vietnamese woman who was a fighter pilot... "who shot me down over a desert island"...

"THAT'S HIM! THAT'S HIM!!!", Flower exclaimed, her eyes aflame.

"Who da writuh!? Could it be... Alex?", Jane asked.
"I... I do not know! It does not... seem to say!", replied Flower, who was really too excited to search well. The story did not seem to have the author's name.

Jane looked over the pictures, front and back, for an artist's signature, but there was none.

"What is... go-back-address on these one!?...", Flower desperately asked.

Excitedly, Flower looked for the return addresses on the envelope the two pictures were mailed in.

"Hmm... Muscle Women BBS, Route 8, Box 332, blah-blah-blah, Northwest Colorado Springs", Jane read, then concluded, "So it don't give no name. Just da name of da BBS."

"But that might be it!", Flower exclaimed, "I remember, address had something on it that said, 'northwest... something'. That could be it!"

Flower frantically dived into the BBS to look for names, addresses, telephone numbers, anything!
The BBS was quite coy about giving out the sysop's name. There was an address which matched what was on the envelope, but no telephone numbers. There was, however, an "electronic mail" (email) option that would go straight to the sysop.

With tears in her eyes and fingers that were shaking, Flower wrote into the message screen for the email:
"Is that you, sweet sweet pretty Alexsa!? Is that you!? This is Flower..."

We now turn it back over to Alex again to take it from here in his words...

* - * - *

"Is that you, sweet sweet pretty Alexsa!? Is that you!? This is Flower! Please answer fast fast!""

An email message heard around my world!

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