2 comments/ 28381 views/ 4 favorites Rachael Pt. 01 By: JimBob44 My friends and colleagues like to tease me; call me 'anal.' I can remember a time when it was called 'meticulous' or fastidious.' Gradually, it became 'fussy' (I think age determines that distinction) and gradually became 'anal.' That fastidious and meticulous nature of mine also helped in my first real after-school job at Pounders Restaurant. I was a dishwasher and busboy. According to the waitresses, I was the best. According to Mr. Gil and Mr. Todd, I wasn't worth the paper it took to wipe my ass. But I made sure that every station had what they needed when they needed it, and did my best to anticipate their needs. I liked my job at Pounders; except for the constant haranguing I got from Mr. Gil and Mr. Todd. Pounders hired nothing but women, ranging in age from eighteen to twenty four, to wait the tables, and dressed them in low cut blouses and short velvet skirts. The fishnet stockings and four-inch heels completed the 'Meat and Tits and Ass' package Pounders was selling. I worked there from age eighteen to twenty two, while in high school and in college, before I became an insurance agent, then an insurance claims adjuster. But Pounders is where I met Rachael. ---- Rachael was twenty when I started and had been working there for three years. It was rumored that she was actually from a very wealthy family and didn't need the money, just worked because she wanted to. She was about five foot two, and around one hundred and fifty pounds. Her tits were huge, her waist nipped in nicely, then her ass and hips flared out tremendously. I would find out that the tits war forty double D (and were natural) and the hips were thirty-nine, while the waist was only thirty inches. Her short brown hair that reached to just below her jaw line and was cut straight across all the way around framed her round face. She parted it in the middle at that time, which was the style then. Her brown eyes were always smiling, as were her bright red lips. She flirted shamelessly with me from the moment I walked in and applied for the job. Hell, ALL the waitresses flirted with me. I didn't think it was because I was the coolest cat they'd ever seen, I knew it was because it made be blush and gave them a good giggle. Mr. Gil began to drink nightly, and quite often smelled like he'd been drinking when he came in. This started after his wife left him. I could have told him that was going to happen. He was in his late forties when he married Jade, an eighteen-year-old waitress. Jade was about five foot ten, and about one hundred pounds. Her long blond hair and vacant look would have made her a great model, but she didn't try to get a career; just decided to marry a man in his forties. She left him for an even older customer. That's when Mr. Gil started to drink. I had finished my rounds; the majority of the waitresses had already clocked out and was leaving. Mr. Gil was sitting at the bar, forlornly slugging back one bourbon after another. I went over to him and offered my condolences on losing his wife. "Thanks Jim," he slurred heavily. "By the way, Mr. Gil?" I asked. "Hmm?" he replied. "Got any naked pictures of Jade?" I asked. Mike, the bartender, smiled lightly. H e liked me and he and I could crack each other up with a good dirty joke every now and then. "Nah, nah, don't got any of those, fucking shame," he slurred and finished his drink. "Want to buy some?" I asked. Mike smiled widely. Mr. Gil sat for a moment while that registered with him, and then lunged for me. I ran down the hall and out the back door with a drunken Mr. Gil in hot pursuit. He chased me around the parking lot for a good five minutes before I ran back in the back door and locked him out. His keys were sitting on the bar, next to his empty large rock glass. I finished up my shift while he pounded on the back door until Mr. Todd let him in. Mr. Todd stopped him from seeking me out and hustled him into the small office they shared. Rachael seemed to know when I would be most vulnerable to her teasing and would not let those opportunities pass her by. Once, when I had my hands full with the large garbage can, she reached out and smacked me on my ass hard. By the time I put the can down, she had run down the hall and with a giggle, strolled onto the dining area. She knew I would not chase her out there, and would not do anything to her; there were paying customers out there and it would not be professional. Another time, I was mopping the hallway and as I bent to wring out the mop, I felt a fingernail drag itself up my thigh. "Hey!" I yelled, startled, only to have Rachael giggle and skip back out onto the dining area. Once when I was in the stockroom, Rachael came in a few minutes later and pinned me against the shelves. A little feather kiss and giggle and she walked back out of the dimly lighted room. "Oh, Jimmy?" she called out. "Yes Rachael," I squeaked. "The ladies bathroom needs cleaning, could you be a dear and do that, pretty please?" she called out. I grabbed the mop, mop bucket, broom and dustpan and headed toward the bathroom. I knocked and there was no answer. I knocked a second time and still there was no answer. I opened the door and Rachael was standing there, flashing me her ample rump clad in bright red panties. "Why, Jimmy!" she laughed. "Sneaking into the ladies room like that! You should be ashamed of yourself!" "Sorry!" I gasped. "I knocked, but there was no answer!" She lowered the hem of her dress, smoothed it out and made sure to give me plenty of direct contact with her tits as she brushed past me. I propped the door open and quickly swept the floor, which wasn't really dirty, then mopped, checked the three stalls to make sure they all had paper, and cleaned the mirror while I waited for the floor to dry. It was while I was cleaning the mirror that I saw Rachael smiling widely at me. "'I love you,'" she mouthed in the reflection, blew me a kiss and with a giggle, she was gone again. I blushed furiously every time I saw her for about a week after that. Mr. Todd, with Mr. Gil intoxicated most of the time, took over the duties as head manager. He also took it upon himself to hire Crissi, an empty headed blonde with tits that rivaled Rachael's. Unlike Rachael, though, Crissi fucked the short bastard. I was cleaning the hallway when Crissi came out of the managers' office, followed a moment later by Mr. Todd. The little bastard was smiling smugly and tucking in his shirt. I don't know what made me do it, maybe I was jealous. He was only four years older than me, but was constantly riding me, constantly telling me I wasn't doing my job well enough, but couldn't ever give me specifics of what he expected, how I could improve. Or maybe I just felt like being a prick right back to him. Anyway, with Crissi just a few steps in front of him, I called out, "Hey, Mr. Todd? Amber (we didn't have an 'Amber' working at Pounders) said her syphilis test came back negative so she's not really sure what it is but said to let you know." "What?" Crissi screamed. "What test?" She was screaming so loud that Mike said he could hear her at the bar, at the bar was at the far side of the restaurant. Mr. Todd finally got her back into his office, but she quit that night, despite his denials of having syphilis. This put me even further on Mr. Todd's 'Shit List,' but for the cooks that were tired of Crissy's constant screw-ups on the orders and the other waitresses that had to constantly take care of her customers while she took care of Mr. Todd, this little joke made me a 'good guy.' ---- "What you doing?" Rachael asked me as I was mopping down the galley; the prep area for the grill. "Water skiing," I said, as the drain in the galley didn't work worth a damn and I wasn't so much mopping as I was trying to soak up the excess liquid. "You're not dressed for it," she commented. "Sure I am, have my swim suit on underneath these jeans," I said and turned around to blot some more of the greasy water. "Let me see," I heard, just as her hands grabbed my ass cheeks firmly. "Ooh, nice trunks!" And with a giggle, she was skipping down the hallway to the dining area. You have to remember, this was 1977; Sexual Harassment was unheard of. Well, not unheard of, but very few ever complained of it. And certainly no eighteen-year-old male would ever think of complaining that a sexy little waitress was grabbing his ass, flashing her underwear, or making lewd and suggestive comments. The fact that I had a noticeable lump in my jeans made me blush tremendously when I finally finished mopping the galley and was returning the mop to the closet and saw Rachael standing there with a twinkle in her eye. She giggled and skipped out to the dining area. "Sure you weren't snow skiing?" she leaned over and asked me as I was clearing off a table. "Looked like you had a ski pole there." I broke two glasses in the rack and she giggled. I didn't smile, though. I hated when I broke things, made mistakes of any sort. I set my jaw and ignored her as I did my work. I cleared off the five tables that were waiting and got the dishwasher going. ---- "We need Thousand Island," Rachael cheerfully said as I did a quick inventory in the stockroom. "Oh, okay," I said and reached for a jar of it. "Here, I'll take it," she said and pressed her large tits against my back and put her left arm around my front and pulled me to her. Her right hand took the jar out of my hand and she lightly dragged her fingernails of her left hand across my middle. In 1977, it was fashionable to wear shirts and slacks very snugly. Thank God, by this time in my life, I could give a damn what's in style or what's fashionable or not, and opt for comfort over fashion. But In 1977, I opted for fashion. My belly fluttered and my cock strained as she slowly, sensuously dragged her long, bright red fingernails across my polyester shirt. I stood for several long moments afterward, in shock and extreme horniness. I had just about recovered when Rachael came back in, carrying the jar of salad dressing. "My mistake," she said. "It was Ranch, not Thousand Island." "Oh, okay," I mumbled, blushing hotly. I reached for the jar and she giggled. "Here, I'll take it," she said and leaned heavily into me, looking up into my eyes. She smiled wickedly, knowing that I was terminally shy (that's why I blushed so easily) and didn't have the guts to approach her or to stop her. She took the jar from my hand, leaned closer and lightly licked my lips with the tip of her tongue. Then with a giggle, she was gone. I was eighteen, for God's sake. This was a twenty one year old woman. That's all it took for me to have a boner that would not go down for anything. I had to go to the bathroom and jerk off before I could return to the dining area to clear off what tables needed it. The teasing and sexual tension was not limited to Rachael; there were seven waitresses on the schedule for the summer of 1977. Most of them were satisfied to just make the occasional innuendo or suggestive comment. Others were quite blatant about it. I was busily mopping the women's restroom, trying to get done as I still had the tables to dear, and those dishes to wash before I could leave for the night. Theresa walked in and dropped her panties to the floor and squatted on the commode. "Hey!" I said in protest. "Do you mind?" "Nope, not at all," she said and spread her legs wide and urinated noisily, right there in front of me! She didn't even bother to close the door to the stall! Then she made a big production of dabbing at her pussy and flushing the toilet. She kicked the panties off and twirled them on her index finger as she strolled over to the sink. "That's what I love about closing time," she whispered to me. I can't wait to get out of my panties!" With that, she slipped the pair of pink satin panties into my shirt pocket and giggled as she walked out of the bathroom. Theresa was a long legged red head with sagging tits. They needed a bra for support, but she seemed to have an aversion to wearing bras, and now I discovered she didn't care for panties either. But the length of the skirts the waitresses wore pretty much made panties a necessity, though. Bending over even slightly quite often exposed a hint of panties; bending over too much exposed quite a bit of rear end. Many of our repeat customers came mainly for the 'floor show' the short skirts offered. Rachael strolled into the restroom a few minutes later and I very quickly retreated out of the restroom. I finished my shift and drove home, Theresa's panties safely stashed in my glove box. Patty, a long legged black girl with a sizable Afro hairstyle also loved to torment me. With the platform shoes I wore, I was pretty much at eye level with her in her four-inch heels. She was forever touching me, would lean in close to me and rub her breasts against me while talking to me. Once she took a long burgundy painted fingernail and circled my nipples through my polyester shirt. I swear, had she done that for another moment, I would have made a sticky mess in the front of my jeans. But Rachael was the most formidable tormentor. And as I said, it was because I was just too damned shy to do anything about it. And it was the same way with any woman I came in contact with. I would start off with resolve and cave in before long. With the male of the species, I had no trouble coming up with a quick comeback, a snide comment, or even an outright confrontation. But I was absolutely putty around women. Rachael had me caving in before I even had formulated what my resolve was. The one thing she would do that weakened my will the most were her feather light kisses. She rarely missed an opportunity to brush her heavily painted lips teasingly close to mine, sometimes smudging my lips with her lipstick. My cock would jump to attention and I would blush furiously and she would giggle and skip off before I could react. That was another thing; the waitresses were dressed in low cut blouses, short skirts, and four-inch heels, yet Rachael managed to skip in this attire. "Ha ha, she got you wrapped around her little finger," Juan, the short order cook would tease me. "You know, Jimmy, maybe one day you'll grow a set of balls," Sid, the head chef would sneer at me whenever he would witness one of these shenanigans. "Man, the girl likes you," Mike the bartender shook his head and laughed as Rachael snuck up behind me as I was restocking his glasses. I was bent over and felt her hot tongue at the back of my neck, but my hands were full and I couldn't do anything about it. "You ought to ask her out, you know," Robin, the newest waitress said when she witnessed one of Rachael's flirts. I had the sugar and creamer packets out and was reaching for the bins to stock them. Rachael leaned forward, bit down on my forearm and I developed a raging erection as I felt her tongue swipe my bare skin. She had bit me hard enough to leave the dental impressions on my skin for a few minutes after she released my arm. But we were out on the service floor and I couldn't raise a fuss. Plus that, Mr. Gil was sitting right behind us, knocking back the bourbon. I'd already had him jump my case once that night, over a mess that Phil, one of the other dishwashers, had left behind when his shift ended. ---- It all came to a head one evening, though. She'd pushed it a little too far, even for me. "Hi Jimmy, what you doing?" Rachael asked, as I was stocking cans of cream of mushroom soup in the stockroom. "Nothing, what you doing?" I asked "I need some Italian salad dressing," she replied I frowned slightly at this; I could have sworn I just filled that container thirty minutes ago. Surely they'd not had that many people request Italian salad dressing; I would have noticed as I bussed the tables. Ranch, yes, thousand Island, maybe, but Italian should have been fine. "I'll get it in a second, " I cheerfully said and squatted to get the last two cans out of the box I was emptying. "No, you're obviously busy, I'll get it," Rachael offered and reached over my head. She also lifted the him of her short skirt and flipped it over my head. "Hey!" I cried out, suddenly plunged into darkness. "Jimmy!" she exclaimed. "Are you looking up my dress?" "No, I'm not," I replied hotly and tried to maneuver away from her She laughed and pressed her crotch tightly against my squirming face. "You know what?" I think we're okay on Italian, maybe it's Ranch we need," she teased as I'd managed to scurry (not an easy task in platform clogs) and followed me to that section of shelves. I stood up quickly to avoid another one of her skirt flips. She giggled at my hotly blushing face and lightly pressed her bright red lips to nine in a feather kiss. She then giggled again and quickly left the small stockroom. After a moment, I had recovered enough to get back to completing the job. But not quickly enough to please Mr. Gil. "What the fuck are you doing?" he hollered at me. "I sent you back here thirty minutes ago with four fucking boxes! It shouldn't take thirty minutes to unload four fucking boxes!" he screamed. It had been ten minutes, not thirty, but he was well into his bourbon, so arguing was pointless. I broke the last of the boxes down and brought the flattened boxes to the dumpster. I then hurried back out into the dining area and cleared off the tables that needed clearing. Rachael smirked at me but I did not respond. The twinkle left her eye and the smile left her lips. She followed me into the dishwashing area. "What's wrong?" she asked. "Nothing," I said hotly and quickly started the first load. "Oh, okay," she quietly said and left. And that's how it went for the next two weeks. She really had pushed it too far as far as I was concerned. I would clock in, do my job, do it well, but I made sure to pay attention to what was going on around me, to never be in a vulnerable position. If I was in the stockroom, the door was firmly shut behind me. If I was entering the ladies restroom, I would first rap politely, then knock loudly so that no one could claim that I didn't knock loud enough. I wasn't ever rude to anyone there, but I was coolly civil. ---- "We need to talk," Rachael said one night as I was throwing some flattened down boxes into the dumpster. "Okay, talk," I said and made sure my back was not to her when I picked up the next stack of boxes. "I'm tired of us not being able to joke around like we used to," she said and came a little closer to me. I stood up and glared at her. "It's not joking around," I said hotly. "It's you teasing me and tormenting me and making fun of me and I'm sick and tired of it." "Jimmy, I'm not making fun of you," she said sadly and put a hand softly on my arm. "I like you, I like you too much to make fun of you." She leaned up and gave me a feather light kiss, turned around and went back inside. Before she shut the door, she looked back at me and said, "I wish you liked me again." If she had given me one of those kisses two minutes earlier, I might not have had the guts to tell her off like that. And the truth of it all was, I did like her. I spent quite a bit of time in my shower replaying certain little taunts and flirtations of hers as I stroked myself to a good load. I still fantasized about that time she'd flashed her bright red panties at me. in my fantasy, I had the courage to reach out and pull them down. I buried my face in between those two magnificent globes of her ass and stuck my tongue as far into her hot brunette pussy as I could reach. I bent her over and make her brace herself against the double sink in that dingy bathroom while I plunged my cock into her from behind. Usually by this point, I was blowing a pretty good load down the shower drain. Rachael Pt. 01 I finished up outside and walked back into the restaurant. Mr. Gil was waiting for me and lay into me the moment I entered the hallway. "Do you know how many fucking tables are sitting there waiting for you to clear them off?" he screamed. "If there were that fucking many, why the fuck didn't you come and get me?" I screamed back. I really had had enough of being the whipping boy around here. He stepped back slightly, staggering from the amount of alcohol he had in him. "Just get your fucking lazy ass out there," he snarled. I grabbed the rack and a clean towel. And went onto the dining area. Out of the thirty two tables, there were four that were waiting for clearing. I guess since he had double vision, it looked like there were eight tables dirty. We had four waitresses on the floor, two of the tables that needed clearing were in Rachael's area, so to show her that I still liked her, I cleared her tables off first. "Thank you," she said softly when I finished her two tables and started on the third table. "you're welcome," I said back and finished that table. While I was finishing the fourth table, another one became vacant in Rachael's station. I doubled back and finished it before they were even to the door. She rewarded me with one of her sweet smiles. Mr. Gil thought he wasn't finished with me, but I calmly told him if he didn't like the way I did things, he was welcome to come show me how he wanted things done. He went to the bar and Mike's assistance, Terrell, told him "What the fuck you expect? Boy's the only one around here actually breaking a sweat, but that don't stop you riding his ass. He done had enough." "Good night, Jimmy," Rachael said quietly as she left that night. I finished my shift, made sure everything was set up for the lunch shift tomorrow (which I was working, since it was Saturday) and did a last minute 'check around,' and punched out. On my car, on the driver's window, was a bright red lip print, a perfect little kiss. I couldn't help but smile at that. Mr. Todd was the manager on duty (even though Mr. Gil was the one scheduled, I'm sure his hangover prevented him from coming in). He actually smiled at me when I walked in, and I returned his smile. "Whoever shut down last night did most of your job for you this morning," he said in a nasty, sneering tone. "It was Jimmy," Rachael called out. "Yeah," Robin agreed. "Oh," a chagrined Mr. Todd said and went back to his duties. I quickly made sure every thing was set up, fresh ice under the salad dressing containers, glasses ready, silverware ready, then double-checked the restrooms for toilet paper and hand towels. The ladies' restroom didn't 'need' toilet paper, but a few of the rolls war a little skimpy so I figured I'd replace them now, before the lunch rush started. "Hi, Jimmy," Rachael said softly as I bent to remove the first roll. "Hi Rachael, I got your message," I said. "My mess..Oh!" she said and giggled. "Did you like that?" "Loved it, still on there," I said. "You need in here? I'm almost done." "No, I just wanted to say 'hi,': she said and left the bathroom. "Hi," I said as the door shut behind her. I finished up and then we were open for business. It was a complete madhouse. I don't know what was going on in New Orleans that Saturday, but as soon as a table emptied, people were sitting down before I could even clear off the dishes. As soon as I stuck a load in the dishwasher, I had to bring the last load out to the service area, still steaming from the dishwasher. Mr. Todd even took over waiting on a few of the tables when one of the girls had to run to the ladies' room. Finally, at four o'clock, one half hour before our shift ended, it began to die down somewhat. "Well it wouldn't kill you to tell him that, would it?" Rachael was snapping at Mr. Todd. I finished refilling the salad dressing containers, replacing the ice under the salad greens, and restocking the cream and sugar packets. I looked around the dining area and there were no tables that needed clearing just yet. I turned around and Mr. Todd was standing there. "Listen, Jim, I'm glad you were the one on duty today; I don't know that anyone else would have been able to keep up with the rush we had, he said. "Oh! Well, um, thank you," I said and went to get another load of glasses out of the dishwasher. "See you later, Jimmy," Robin called out as she left. "Have a nice day," Patty said and waved. "Bye, Jimmy," a subdued Rachael said. "Wait, Rachael," I called out and blushed heavily. She perked up immediately and came to where I was sweeping the floor of the dishwashing area. "Yeah?" she asked, her little smile on her face. "Um, are you doing anything um, you known, um tonight or anything?" I stammered, sure my face was as bright red as her lipstick. "Um, no, not really, what did you have in mind?" she asked and pressed her large tits against me as she leaned closer. "Um, I don't know, um, how about skating or something?" I stammered. I really didn't know what a twenty one year old woman would want to do; I'd never been out on a date before. All through high school, there had been plenty of girls I wanted to ask out, but my extreme shyness prevented me from opening my mouth. "Skating?" she asked and wrinkled up her nose. "I haven't been skating in years! When?" "Well, um, tonight, you know," I stammered and wanted the floor to swallow me up; I was sure I'd made a complete fool of myself. "Okay," she said and gave me a feather kiss. "Let me get you my address and phone number." She wrote her address down on her menu pad, ripped the ticked off and smiled cheekily at me as she pushed the piece of paper into the front pocket of my blue jeans. "Seven thirty?" she asked and left the room before I could answer. When I pulled the paper out of my pocket, I blushed hotly; she'd written "Get a box of condoms too." ---- I stood in the long line at the pharmacy, waiting my turn. The woman at the counter was in her late hundreds and scowled at me when I asked for a box of Trojans, lubricated. She cracked a sinister smile when a few people tittered as she asked "And what do you need those for?" "Well, if you don't know by now, you'll probably never find out," I loudly said. Her eyes opened widely at my quick response, then narrowed into mean little slits as she hissed, "Does your mother know you're buying those?" "No, but your daughter does," I said. "Look, woman, they're hanging up right behind you. They are available for sale, just reach out, grab the damned things, and ring them up, all right?" Apparently, asking a girl out on a date had bolstered my self-confidence tremendously. Had I been in there the day before, I would have blushed and stammered and left the drugstore without the condoms. She sputtered in rage and chock, especially since the people behind me were really having a good time listening to us. Slapped them down, rang them up and slapped my change into my hand. "See you tomorrow," I cheerfully said and walked out of the pharmacy. The apartment complex was a nice one, a pretty ritzy affair really. It was named 'Rock Creek' and there was an actual creek that babbled and coursed throughout the complex, finally emptying into the large swimming pool as a waterfall. I had to pee by the time I finally found Apartment 117, listening to that babbling creek. I knocked at the door and waited a few moments. I was about to knock again when it was opened. A short girl peered up at me myopically through glasses so thick they made her eyes look as large as tennis balls. "You Jimmy?" she asked, craning her head from side to side, trying to get an angle to look at me through. "Yeah," I said. "I'm here for Rachael." "Uh huh, I know that," she said and found that funny. She stepped aside and I entered the apartment. The girl closed the door and ran smack into me from behind. "Oops! Sorry!" she said and lightly used her hands to guide herself around me. I saw the white cane in the corner and realized that the girl was legally blind. She had long stringy brown hair and was dressed in a 'REO Speed wagon' Tee Shirt and baggy blue jeans and leather sandals. She didn't look like she weighed more than eighty pounds. I followed her into the living room and she picked up a joint out of the ashtray. She took a huge hit from it and sat still, eyes bulging, as she held the acrid smoke in her lungs as long as possible. I smiled slightly; there had been quite a bit in the papers about marijuana being used to treat glaucoma. My buddy, Rickie, sold a bunch of weed on campus, not because he needed the money, but because he liked the thrill of being a big time dope dealer. I thought to myself I should get this nameless roommate of Rachael's a couple of Thai stick and see if she developed X-Ray vision. I heard a door open and peered down the darkened hallway. Rachael entered the living room and gave me a lovely smile and a feather light kiss. She looked great; snug blue jeans, platform clogs, tight white sweater, and her trademark bright red lipstick. She nodded toward the girl on the couch. "I see you met Ziggy," she laughed. "Kind of, she didn't give me her name," I said. "You didn't' ask," Ziggy said. "Ready?" Rachael said and gave me another light kiss. "Have fun," Ziggy called out and took another mammoth hit off of her joint. Skating was a lot of fun; normally when I go, there's all these guys and they're all with these really hot looking chicks and I skate around and watch them and wish I could be a guy that was there with a really hot looking chick and putting my arm around them and feeling them rub against me, and all of that. Well, tonight, I was. I was a guy with a really hot looking chick and was holding her hand as we zoomed around the rink, and had her arm around me when she needed my support, and had her thigh pressed firmly against me when we stopped for a soda and shared a quick kiss. After nearly two hours, we'd had enough and I suggested ice cream at Swenson's, which was down the street. "Is it okay if Ziggy comes along?" Rachael asked. "I mean, I know this is our date and all, and I'll understand if you say no, but she really loves ice cream and she doesn't get out all that much ." "That would be great," I smiled. That was absolutely the right thing to say; Rachael did not give me a feather light kiss, but gave me a very jammy kiss. At a red light, she leaned over and gave me another one. Her hand was resting squarely on my thigh and by the time we reach Rock Creek Apartments, the hand had traveled to almost the top of my thigh. We kissed again, this time with a lot of tongue, which was a first for me but if she noticed this, she didn't say anything. We got out and went to her apartment. "Hey Ziggy!" Rachael called out when we entered. "Who's that?" Ziggy called out from the living room. "Little Red Riding Hood, who do you think?" she said. "Gee, you're back early, what happened? Was he mean to you?" Ziggy said and stumbled into the little foyer. "No, not at all," Rachael said and laughed. "No, he wants to take us for ice cream." "Ice cream?" Ziggy gasped. "I love ice cream!" "I know that, that's why we're here, to get you and take you for ice cream too," Rachael said. Ziggy ran into Rachael and then ran squarely into me but finally managed to find her cane in the corner. She sat in the back seat of the car and sang "I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream!" for the fifteen minutes it took to get to Swenson's. My dad had slipped me a twenty for this date, even though I'd told him I had my own money, so I told them to get whatever they wanted. I got a couple of hot kisses from Rachael for that one and it took Ziggy about five minutes to tell the poor girl behind the counter what it was that she wanted. By the time Ziggy finished, the girl was so confused she wasn't quite sure what to ring up. "Just give her a bucket and we'll pick her up in an hour or two when she's finished," Rachael laughed. "Oh, shut up," Ziggy laughed. Rachael helped her find a seat then rejoined me as I tried to explain what it was that Ziggy wanted. "Just give her a hot fudge sundae, add caramel sauce, and cookie crumbles, and chocolate sprinkles," Rachael whispered to the girl who brightened considerably and rang that up. She and I placed our orders, and I was grateful to my dad for the twenty-dollar bill; I didn't have to look bad in front of my date by counting out the bills and the change for our treat. "Boy, I didn't think they'd get it right," Ziggy said as she slurped at her sundae; that girl didn't seem like she knew what I was talking about." "Yeah, well, she figured it out when I told her to just sweep the floor and dump that stuff into a bowl for you," I teased. "Shut up," Ziggy laughed and I got a squeeze from Rachael for that one. Ziggy was a complete mess when we finished. There was a big circle of ice cream and sauce around her mouth, her glasses had remnants stuck to them, and there was a dab of whipped cream on her nose, her chin, and on her forehead. Rachael nonchalantly dipped a napkin into a glass of ice water and cleaned her roommate's face. Obviously they had done this before, Ziggy submitted to the cleaning very calmly "Are you sure you can't stay the night?" Rachael whispered hotly in my ear as I kissed her good night. "I wish I could," I whined. "But we got church early tomorrow morning." "Sure?" Rachael whispered and licked my ear. "Ziggy's going to be sleeping on the couch tonight." "Where's she normally sleep?" I asked. "With me, silly, it's a one bedroom apartment," Rachael laughed. "Oh," I said. "It's not like that," Rachael laughed and licked my lips until I opened my mouth for another one of her breath-taking kisses. "She's my older sister, silly." "Well, okay, if you must go," she finally said and I walked toward the door. I heard a giggle and knew I was in for some trouble in just a minute. "Hey jimmy?" she called out and I turned around and groaned. She had shrugged out of her tight sweater and lacy white bra and her impressive tits were out on full display. They were large and sagged under their own weight. The nipples were large, dark, and very visibly erect. She smiled widely and put her hands under them and offered them to me. I weighed the consequences of not going home at all, but knew that my dad would not be amused and my mother would be even less happy. Rachael, you're killing me," I groaned and somehow managed to make it to the door of the apartment. "Wait Jimmy," Rachael called out and came toward me. "I'm glad you're not mad at me anymore," she whispered and gave me another breath-taking kiss. "Because I love you." It was hard, pun intended, to tear myself away from a half naked woman that he just declared her love for me, but my fear of my parents' reprisal was greater than my horniness. ---- I worked the evening shift that Monday, as did Rachael. Every opportunity she had, she was in the back, harassing me, kissing me, squeezing me. The smile that was on her face, the twinkle that was in her eye, and the constant giggles that she let out whenever she approached me for more kissing were absolutely delightful. "When are we going out again?" she asked and jammed her tongue into my mouth before I could answer. "We are going out again, aren't we?" and again jammed her tongue into my mouth when I tried to answer. "Why won't you tell me?" she huffed and again jammed her tongue into my mouth. "Don't you like me?" "Rachael, table twelve," Debbie, one of the waitresses called out and Rachael huffed and left the back room. I looked quickly at the schedule and saw that we both had off on Thursday. I went to the telephone in the employee's lounge (which we mainly used as a secondary storage room as almost no one ever used it and dialed the restaurant's number. Debbie answered it on the third ring. "Rachael Bentley,, please," I said. "Hello?" Rachael's voice came on. "Hey, this is Jimmy," I said. "What are you doing on Thursday?". She giggled happily into the telephone. "I don't know, what did you have in mind?" "How about we go to Lafreneire's, make someone else wait on us and wash our dirty dishes?" I suggested. "Okay, but this time, dessert's on me," she said and hung up. All my wages had been going to my college fund and I was doing fairly well in my Freshman Semester, so my parents were not very happy that I was taking this 'older woman' to Lafreneire's, which was a slightly expensive restaurant. I told my dad in somewhat hushed tones if he had ever seen Rachael's unbelievable boobs, he'd be encouraging me to take her out to Lafreneire's. "That nice, son?" he said and smiled knowingly. I made sure to make reservations and picked Rachael up at her apartment in plenty of time. She looked great, as usual, in a tight black silky blouse, short black and white skirt, dark hose and black pumps. Ziggy was still in her REO Sppedwagon tee shirt and baggy jeans and looked as vacant as ever. "Ready?" Rachael smiled up at me and when I opened my mouth jammed her tongue in for a breath-taking kiss, one that had my cock hard in seconds. "What's the matter?" she teased and again stuffed my mouth with her tongue. "Cat got your tongue?" she asked and broke into a gale of giggles as I leaned away from her as she tried to stuff her tongue into my mouth again to prevent me from talking. "Have fun," Ziggy called out. The waiter, obviously because of our youth, was condescending and bordered on being rude. The food was adequate, but certainly overpriced. But the atmosphere, the ambience was dark and romantic, very elegant. "And will that be cash or credit card?" the waiter sneered at me as he presented us with the bill. He had not even bothered to ask if we wanted dessert or coffee. "Cash, Y'all fucked up the charge on my American Express last time I was here," I casually said. "O! Sir, I do apologize!" he gasped. , snobbish attitude disappearing immediately. "We normally take all precautions when charging a client's credit card." "Yeah, well, it's a chance I'm not willing to take," I said and dropped a couple of twenties onto the bill holder. "Thank you, sir, come again," he said as Rachael and I got up. "Uh huh, you know, the service at Pounders is so much better, treat me like a human being," I said and we sauntered out into the twilight. "Your American Express?" Rachael laughed when we got outside. "Jimmy, you've never been here before, have you?" "No, but he doesn't know that," I smiled. "And the service at Pounders is a whole lot better," she said and wrapped herself around me. "So I've been told," I said. "Come on, I'll prove it," she said and gave me a feather kiss and disentangled herself from me. Ziggy was sitting on the couch, jeans unzipped, and right hand buried in her jeans while a soft core pornography movie played on the cable station. If she noticed us entering the apartment, she didn't respond. "Can she even see what they're doing on the television?" I asked as Rachael dragged me down the hall to her bedroom. "Beats me," Rachael laughed. "Ask her." The bedroom was a small one, made all the smaller by a huge water bed that took up most of the available floor space. A chest of drawers was crammed into a corner of the room, and I doubted if they could open the bottom drawer, jammed up against the bed like that. "Rachael, do you remember one time, when I walked into the ladies' room at work, you were flashing me your panties?" I asked as she unbuttoned my shirt and kissed me hotly. "Yeah," she said and giggled. "What color were they?" Rachael Pt. 01 "Red," I said and reached for the buttons of her blouse. "Guess what?" she said and stepped back "What?" I said and tried to pull her in for another embrace. She danced away from me and turned around. I watched as she lifted the hem of her skirt and revealed the bright red panties to my gaze. I did what I'd been fantasizing about for months. I grabbed the panties and eased them down. She stepped out of them and I fell to my knees behind her. Her pale ass cheeks were like porcelain, smooth, white, beautiful. I grabbed her hips and stuffed my face in between those magnificent globes. The musky smell was intoxicating and I delved my tongue in the darkness as best I could. I waggled my tongue this way and that way, tasting and slurping whatever I could. I finally found her pussy lips through the thicket of brown hair and lapped hungrily at her from behind. My fingers were kneading those wonderful globes of flesh and she was moaning and pressing her pussy to my face as best she could in that difficult position. Finally I stood back up and finished undressing myself and she undressed herself. The bright red panties lay on the floor, but she took the time to hang the skirt and blouse. She turned around and showed me the front clasp of her bright red bra. I undid her bra clasp and those phenomenal boobs sprang out. "I like it like this," she said and bit down hard on my nipple. Her tongue lashed furiously at my nipple while her teeth pressed down hard. "Harder!" she groaned as I bit down on her nipple. "Harder, please!" she groaned as my fingers dug at her wet pussy. "Oh, Jimmy!" she grunted when I bit down so hard I was sure I was drawing blood. "Oh, Jimmy!" she screamed as I pinched her clitoris and bit down on her other nipple. She was not a quiet lover. Oral sex was nice, but biting, gnawing, sucking and slurping oral sex was nicer still. She was also quick to orgasm, and quick to scream her approval. "Oh, shit!" I gasped. "I forgot the condoms in the car!" "Don't need them, I'm on the pill," she said and grabbed my cock and guided it to her pussy. "Then what'd you make me buy them for?" I whined and slammed myself home in her hot, wet pussy. "Work, silly," she giggled as the waterbed sloshed and gurgled underneath us. "I'm not going to be walking around the dining area with your come dripping out of me!" She had left her thigh high stockings on (to this day I still have a fetish for those) and her plump thighs rubbed sensuously against me as she wrapped her legs around my waist. She jammed her tongue into my mouth and gave me another one of her breath-taking kisses as I drove my cock in and out of her thick bush of brown hair. "Oh, God! I love you Jimmy!" she screamed out as another orgasm ripped through her. "Ahhh!" she screamed as I bit down hard on her nipple (this time I did draw blood) and orgasmic as I emptied my balls into her pussy. She made me lay down while she 'cleaned' my cock for me, which she attempted to do with her tongue. I was hard again in mere seconds (ah, to be eighteen again!) and I grabbed her wide hips and pulled her around so that we were in a sixty-nine position. She gurgled around my cock while I lapped at her pussy and chewed on her pussy lips. I pushed two fingers into her pussy while I tongued her tight brown hole. I liked her big boobs, but I was very very quickly becoming andAss' man. My buddy Rickie had told me about doing this with his girlfriend, but because his girlfriend was kind of dirty looking, I thought it was totally gross. Rachael's ass tasted like sweat and something musky, but did not taste like I had expected it to taste, you know, like shit. I wormed my tongue into her ass hole as far as I could and continued to thrust my fingers in and out of her pussy. "Ahhh!" she howled in orgasm when I pinched her clitoris hard. "oh fuck! Oh shit!" she laughed as my sperm blasted her in her face and she attempted to work my squirming cock back into her sucking mouth. "That was my first time, you know that?" I said to her as we lay in the afterglow of sex. "Not your last, that's for sure," she lazily said and played with my limp cock. She put up a mild fuss when I had to leave and teased me mercilessly while I attempted to dress. I would locate one of my shoes, only to have it disappear again when I looked for the other one, or have my shirt suddenly under the blanket while I attempted to find my belt. In between the frantic clothing searches, she would languidly shove a couple of her fingers into her pussy in front of me and then rub them under my nose so that I would be smelling her beautiful scent or would show me how she could suck her own nipples, which of course would produce an immediate, tremendous erection. "I love you," she whispered hotly in my ear then jammed her tongue into my mouth. I finally pried my way free and left her apartment. The night air was dank and hot and the mosquitoes were out in full force as I walked to my car. When I got there, I discovered that I did not have my car keys. She had been stroking my cock nonstop while I was trying to get to the front door of her apartment, obviously she had pulled my keys out of my pocket at that time. I laughed aloud at her little shenanigans and walked back to her apartment. She stood outside, smiling widely as I approached. She wore a very short terry cloth robe. "Why, Jimmy!" she laughed. "What a pleasant surprise! What brings you to this neck of the woods?" "You know damned good and well what I'm here for," I laughed. "No, I don't," she teased. "Maybe some of this?" With that, she pulled her robe open and flashed me her large boobs and hairy pussy. "No, my keys," I laughed and she wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me in for another kiss. I found my keys in her robe pocket and pulled them out while she was preoccupied with my mouth. She pulled away and laughed happily. I swatted her lightly on her ass and she went back inside. "Good night, Jimmy," she called out as the door shut behind her. ---- I was in the stock room replacing the jars of salad dressing that had been used at the lunch rush when I heard the door close. I turned around and Rachael put her finger to her lips, signaling that I should be silent. She handed me a condom, turned around and bent over at the waist while bracing her hands on a shelf. "Hurry up," she hissed and I tore open the packet and slid the condom onto my throbbing erection. She pulled the crotch of her panties aside and I drove my cock into her drooling pussy. "Uh!" she grunted and I drove in and out of her like a piston, which was not easy; she was much shorter than I. "Mmph!" she put her arm across her mouth to muffle her scream of orgasm and I had to strangle my own cry as I filled the condom with my come. "I love you," she said and left the stock room with a giggle. I had just finished zipping my pants back up when Mr. Todd angrily yanked the door open. "What the hell is taking you so long?" he barked. I didn't answer, just finished my chores in that room and hustled to the dining area to clear any tables that may have emptied in my absence. The three waitresses on duty giggled and tittered as I cleared the tables and Rachael was right in the middle of it, smiling happily at me. ---- I was hurriedly sweeping the ladies' room clean, preparing to mop when Rachael rushed in with eyes twinkling and smiling widely. She roughly grabbed me by my shirt and pushed me into the last stall and closed the door. She had my cock out of my jeans and her hot mouth sucking at it before I could react. Thankfully, my cock reacted very quickly and she gurgled happily around my hard cock as she bobbed her head up and down its length. "Come on," she hissed at me. "I have two tables left!" She didn't have to worry; I was spurting my hot load down her throat within mere seconds. She smiled up at me, showed me her mouthful of my come and then swallowed noisily. She left the restroom and I staggered back to my sweeping. "JT+RB 4ever" was drawn on my driver's side window in bright red lipstick when I finally made it out of Pounders that night. I had to laugh; she was, in many ways, worse than a schoolgirl with her first crush. ---- "Oh Baby, I'm so proud of you," Rachael gushed when I showed her the letter from the Dean's Office. I'd made the Dean's List with a Four Point Oh GPA that semester. How I managed that, with an unbelievably demanding sex life, a hectic work schedule and still living at home was beyond me. But true to form, we had to celebrate by making love. "Listen, Christmas is coming up," she said as we lay on her sloshing waterbed. "No shit? That must be why they keep playing those crappy songs," I said "And listen, I don't want you spending money you don't have on me, do you hear me?" she said. "What do you mean?" I asked, a little hurt. I knew she was rich, she drove a brand new LincolnTowncar; well, she let me drive it when we went out, which wasn't often. She preferred to stay inside and fuck as much as we could. "I mean, loving you is worth more than any present you could buy, Jimmy what we have you don't get in stores, you know?" she hastened to say. She could tell she'd hurt my feelings. "Well, I already got you something, so don't worry about it," I said and climbed out of bed. A a warder bed is a terrible place to have a fight; you can't get out of them very easily or gracefully, especially when the other person is pulling you back. "Jimmy wait!" she cried and clutched at me. "Please Baby, don't leave!" Ziggy sat and smiled blankly as I dressed in the living room. Rachael's sobbing could be heard; I felt terrible but my pride had been bruised. "Merry Christmas," Ziggy said and lay down on the couch. "Merry Christmas to you too," I said and left the apartment. ---- Rickie and Ziggy hit it off right away; how could they not? She was a pothead, he was a pot dealer. He liked women a little on the dirty side, she sometimes forgot to bathe for a few days. Truthfully, I think the main reason Rickie was a dope dealer was he wanted acceptance, wanted someone to like him. Ziggy liked him. Ziggy looked kind of cute in the short 'Elf' costume, and Rachael looked absolutely gorgeous in her 'Elf' costume. "Can I have another Dr. Pepper, please?" Ziggy asked Mike when she finally managed to bounce off of enough tables and chairs to find the bar. We exchanged our 'Secret Santa' gifts and I had to laugh aloud at the Christmas boxer shorts that Theresa had given me. Rachael smiled at Mr. Todd's gift of long scarf and matching gloves. "Pouter um, Ponder's," Robin slurred when she picked up the phone; she'd been hitting the eggnog since four o'clock that afternoon. "Rachael Bentley, please," I said, disguising my voice. I was calling from the employees' lounge. "This is Rachael," her voice sounded unhappy. "Hey, it's me," I said. "Oh hi, Jimmy," she said, sounding a little sadder. "I was looking for you; I was kind of hoping to see you before you left." I heard a slight sniffle. "Can you meet me in the stockroom?" I asked. She didn't even answer, just hung up. I could hear her high-heeled shoes running down the hall before I even hung up. I hurriedly entered the stockroom and waited. "Jimmy, I am so sorry, I just wasn't thinking, I didn't mean to hurt your feeling, Baby I love you so much please don't be mad at me," she was babbling and clutching at me and trying to kiss me and talk at the same time. "Rachael, shut up!" I laughed and held her sweet round face with my hands and we looked into each other's eyes for a few minutes. "Rachael I'm so sorry I let my pride get the better of me," I tried to say. "No, Jimmy, it was my fault," she tried to stop me. "No, it wasn't," I said. "It was my big old ego, and it got hurt and I've been so stupid, will you please forgive me?" "Only if you forgive me," she said and we kissed deeply. "But I did buy you a Christmas present," I said and reached into my pocket. I'm sure I'll love it," she said. "God I hope so," I said and got down on one knee. "Jimmy what are you doing, Jimmy is this what I think it is, Jimmy if you're playing games with me I swear to God I will Jimmy!" she screamed when she saw the 1.5 carat diamond engagement ring. My parents had, of course, met Rachael and she tried her best to charm them, but they were lukewarm to her. So the news of our engagement wasn't met with the happiest of faces, but they didn't try to talk me out of it either. ---- Ziggy was absolutely stoned when she and Rickie showed up for the New Year's Eve party. She stumbled over to the bar, after running into most of the furniture between the front door and the bar. "Can I have another Dr. Pepper, please?" she asked Mike, who laughed out loud. She was so far gone, she thought that the New Year's Eve party was just a continuation of the Christmas Party. "Yes, you can," he said and poured it for her. The party was in full swing when there was a loud rapping at the door. We ignored it; people had been knocking on the door all evening. Assuming we were open for business. A few moments later, the blast of cold air from outside blew in and the owner of Pounders strolled in. He used his key to lock the door behind him then scowled as he looked around. Ronald 'Pounder' Bentley had been a football player in the late fifties and early sixties. He'd excelled at Defense, pounding away at the Offensive line until they crumbled. That's where he picked up the nickname 'Pounder.' He was the star of the infamous 'Blood Bowl,' a match up between the Kansas City Chiefs and the Minnesota Vikings. The day had started off with near blizzard conditions and the television and radio announcers had dubbed the game 'the Snow Bowl' before the first kick off. Until 3:45 that afternoon, they weren't even sure if the game would be played, but the snow finally stopped falling and they were able to clear the field somewhat. Minnesota had the ball and the quarterback called for the snap. Pounder Bentley hit him so hard his helmet split open. Minnesota's second-string quarterback refused to get off the bench so Minnesota sent out the third string quarterback. A wide receiver and a fullback joined the quarterback on the gurney before the first four minutes of the game had ticked off the game clock. The offensive line tried to put two blockers against Pounder and he walked through them as if they were not there at all. When they put three blockers, it left the rest of the line weak against any other defensive back. Pounder was a man possessed; Kansas City gave up fifty five yards to Minnesota on personal fouls in the first half alone, but Minnesota, favored to win by fourteen points, was scoreless by the end of the first half, and had lost five offensive players to injuries. The announcers called it 'The Blood Bowl' during the Half Time show and that's what it has been called ever since. The final score was Kansas City 12, Minnesota 0. Of the seven people Pounder put in the hospital that day, five would not return to professional football. Years later, Pounder would admit he'd had complained of being groggy from lack of sleep; the motel bed was too hard. An assistant to one of the trainers had given him two pills and he took them and felt wide-awake, alert. The two pills turned out to be amphetamines and Ronald, not used to anything stronger than a beer, thought he was fine, but in actuality was speeding on an amphetamine rush to beat all rushes. The assistant was lucky Ronald didn't suffer a major stroke that day. Pounders Restaurant in New Orleans was one of the many investments Ronald Bentley had made with his money from football and from endorsements. Looking at his three hundred and four pound body and knowing of his brush with amphetamines, it was quite amusing (though I wouldn't say it to his face) that his main endorsement was for a diet pill. >>>> There the legend stood, scowling at all of us. Mr. Todd and Mr. Gil approached him, lips fully puckered for the ass kissing they would give Mr. Bentley. As his presence didn't have any bearing on me; I was just a dishwasher; I continued to dance with Patty, who was laughing drunkenly at my overly Caucasian skill, or lack of skill. The song ended, thankfully, and I kissed her lightly on the cheek and turned to watch Mr. Todd and Mr. Gil grovel before their boss. I hate to say it, but it felt good to witness Mr. Todd and Mr. Gil, the two ass holes that delighted in belittling me, getting a little of their own medicine. Rachael came out of the ladies' room, guiding Ziggy over to where Rickie and I stood. They were chattering about something and I smiled at her as she approached. "Mr. Pounder is here," I said over the din of the disco music that was blaring out of the inadequate speakers in the restaurant's ceiling. The speakers were designed to play elevator music, not The Village People. Her eyes opened wide and she turned to look at the large man that was giving Mr. Todd and Mr. Gil a good tongue lashing about how badly they were managing his restaurant. "Daddy!" she cried out and ran to the large man. His face went from angry scowl to wrinkled smiles as his daughter leapt up into his arms for a big bear hug. I don't know why I never made the connection before; Rachael Bentley worked at Pounders, which was owned by Ronald 'Pounder' Bentley. We knew she came from a wealthy family, and that her folks lived in Kansas City, Kansas. Ronald Bentley called Kansas City home. "Daddy, I want you to meet Jimmy, he's the most wonderful man in the whole world, next to you, I hope you like him, I love him," she was babbling excitedly as she brought him over to meet me. The man stared at me for a moment, then took my outstretched hand. "Ronald Bentley," he growled. "Jim Taylor," I said. "It's nice to meet you, sir." "Hi Daddy," Ziggy said, running into me as she searched for her father. I watched the man's face soften considerably, saw the hurt and pain in his eyes as he held his older daughter's face in his large hands. "Hi Veronica," he said softly. "How are you Sweetheart?" "It's good to see you again, Daddy," she said and kept twisting her head to see his face. "I love you, Daddy." He looked at me again and I nodded in understanding; it pained him tremendously to see his oldest daughter like this, blind, stoned, unable to function in a normal society. He had overcome abject poverty to become a legend on the football field, had utilized his earnings through wise investments to amass a considerable fortune, but was unable to do anything to help someone that he loved more than life itself. Ronald Bentley walked around and spoke briefly with his employees, Rachael and Ziggy in tow. Midnight came and we all greeted 1978 with cheers and kisses all around. Ronald authorized a bottle of champagne to be opened and we all toasted the New Year. Mr. Bentley and I chatted a few minutes, mostly about what I was studying in college, what my plans were for the future and mainly what my plans were for his little girl. "Good man," Ronald said to Rachael. "Keep him." At 2:00 am, Rachael and I finally arrived at her apartment. My parents knew that I would be spending the night with her and though they weren't happy about it, they realized that I was an adult, as was she. "Oh, Jimmy, I love you so much," Rachael slurred. I had never seen her drunk before and I must admit, it was kind of funny. She leaned against me as I opened her door for her and we staggered into the small kitchen. "Ziggy's not coming home, she's with Rickie," Rachael needlessly reminded me. "Yeah?" I smiled. "So what'd you have in mind?" Rachael Pt. 01 "I had in mind, I had in mind, that maybe we could fuck," he said and leaned heavily against me. "Wow, we haven't done that before," I said. "That sounds great!" "We have too!" she laughed and looked up at me. "Do you love me, Jimmy Robert Taylor?" "Yes I do, Rachael Ann Bentley," I said. "And one day, one day, it's going to be Rachael Ann Taylor, right?" she said, still looking up at me. "That's right," I said and kissed her. "You're you're a pretty good kisser, you know that?" she asked and leaned heavily against me. "Yeah? Well, you're pretty good at it too," I said and kissed the top of her head. "Come on, let's go to bed, I want to fuck," Rachael said and staggered away from me. "Whoops!" she said and went down on the floor in a heap. After I finished laughing at her, I tried to pick her up. She laughed and clawed at my clothing. It's pretty damned hard to pick up a drunken woman that's not cooperating at all, that keeps undoing your belt buckle and your zipper. We made love on the kitchen floor. I loved her in thigh high stockings. I do not know where her panties wound up, we did not find them that night. After I finished eating her delicious, slightly too hairy pussy to a couple of orgasms, she begged for me to stick my cock in her which I did with great gusto. Drunken, with her make up horribly smeared, hair a sweaty mess, there was not a more beautiful woman than my Rachael. We staggered into the bedroom and made love again, a sweaty, awkward mess, but we both came loudly. Then we slept. ---- Eight years later, after a few years of marriage, it did seem that sex was all we had in common. And slowly but surely, that wasn't enough. I'd graduated from college and gained a job with an insurance company. My knack for finances landed me the very secure position of Claims Adjuster. We had a nice house (it would never be a home, unfortunately) and two nice cars. Rachael was a 'stay at home' housewife; she had stopped taking the Pill and we were trying to be a Mommy and Daddy. I came in one night to find Rachael throwing her clothes into a suitcase. There were four other cases, already packed. The boxes downstairs hadn't even registered with me when I came in to the house. "I'm sick of this shit! I am suffocating!" she screamed at me. "You are stifling me! Day after day, the same boring fucking thing, day after day! I can't take it anymore!" With a few more hateful and hurtful comments, she left. The divorce itself was amicable enough; her lawyer smugly told us "there is absolutely nothing that my client wants from Mr. Taylor," as if I had nothing of value for her. She didn't bother to show up for the divorce proceeding, and a few months later, I received a cold, unemotional packet of papers from the clerk of court that said it was truly over. I saw Rachael a few years later, at a grocery store. I saw the burly biker that had a firm grip on her arm and was not letting go of her. I also saw the remnants of a black eye behind the sunglasses she was wearing. He scowled at me as if to say, "Don't you look too long at my woman." I had known she'd taken up with a biker from Ziggy; she and Rickie married a few months before I and Rachael had married. I stayed in contact with her; I liked her and liked Rickie. But they never spoke of Rachael or her boyfriend as they knew it hurt me too much. A few months after I'd seen Rachael and her boyfriend at the grocery store, Ziggy and Rickie were killed in their home; obviously a bad drug deal or botched robbery. I went to their joint (no pun intended) memorial service. I gave my condolences to Mr. Bentley and his wife. Ziggy looked at peace, which was the way she always looked, stoned, peaceful. I can't help but wonder if she's blind in Heaven too, or if she can finally see. Rickey looked peaceful too. I didn't realize how much I loved him and our friendship until it was too late. Rachael looked older, tired. Her boyfriend (he refuses to be shackled by marriage) scowled at everyone and I got a very bad feeling from him. I couldn't help but wonder if he had anything to do with the people that put my friends in those pine boxes. ---- "Hello?" I groggily said. It was one thirty in the morning and my telephone ringing awakened me. "Jimmy?" and then I heard sobbing and then a dial tone. I don't know for sure that it was Rachael; it had been almost ten years since I'd heard her sweet voice. Had she giggled, I would have known in an instant; but there was no giggle, But no one else calls me 'Jimmy.' The End. Rachael Pt. 02 *Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual act are at least eighteen years of age or older. Chapter 1 My longhaired cat, Anastasia, and I watched from the upstairs window as the next-door neighbors moved out. Actually, it was just the common law wife that was moving out. Keith had moved out seven weeks earlier, sitting in Central Lock-Up, awaiting trial on drug charges. We weren't sorry to see them go; they were so loud, always blaring their heavy metal music, screaming at each other, breaking things. I would miss her sunbathing in the back yard, but thankfully I had enough pornographic dvds to keep the voyeuristic part of my life full. Besides that, at the tender age of twenty-four, she already had saggy tits and a bit of a paunch, from the endless beers she was guzzling; I could find better to spy upon. The owner of the house did the minimal necessary to get the house ready for rental and two weeks later, I watched as a small moving van pulled up and backed into the driveway. The guy that got out of the driver's seat seemed to be closer to my age (I'm 46). Maybe they'd be better neighbors than the last bunch that Anastasia and I had endured. That hope was dashed when an old battered car, spewing smoke from its rusted muffler, pulled up and nosed up to the van. The woman that got out of the driver's side of the car wasn't even fully out of the car before she was screaming obscenities at him about his driving skills. He started screaming back at her about her questionable skills of giving directions. I sighed and emptied Anastasia's litter box. "Looks like we're in for at least six months of more of the same," I said To Anastasia. She blinked as the door slamming and yelling started in full earnest next door, and then decided that she was hungry. I let them get well into the moving process before I decided to be a 'good neighbor' and go next door and introduce myself and offer any assistance. ---- "Yeah, I'm Clem," he said and we shook hands. "I'm Melanie," the short and stocky woman said. Her breath reeked of cigarettes and beer. I glanced at my watch; it was 9:40 in the morning. "And that there's Rachael," Melanie said and jerked her thumb toward the front door of the home. I looked up at the small blonde girl that stood shyly in the doorway. I smiled and waved hello. She smiled and waved back then disappeared into the darkness of the house. "Yeah, I could use an extra hand, Melanie's fucking useless when it comes to anything that looks like it might be work," Clem said, which started another round of name calling and swear words. He and I made pretty short order of their cheap furniture and I had barely broken a sweat. He, on the other hand, was sweating and groaning by the time we finished. "Want a beer," Melanie offered, which I politely declined. "No, thanks, I don't drink," I said. "Never heard of such a thing," she cackled. "But Clem looks like he could use one," I said and prepared to leave. "Then Clem can go get his own fucking beer," she snapped, which started off another round of their loud barrage. "Hi," a quiet voice said and I looked into a pair of the palest blue eyes I'd ever seen. They were so light, they almost looked white. "Hi," I said back. "That's your house next door?" she asked. "Yeah, I was one of the first to move into this neighborhood," I said. "What kind of flowers are those?" she asked and pointed to the carpet roses I have along the front walkway. "I mean, they look like roses, but I've never seen any that just fall all over like that." We had walked over to my front yard and she was examining the bricked in garden that lines my walkway. "Those are carpet roses, they are actually a ground cover," I said and reached down and plucked a yellow one and handed it to her. She smiled and I smiled back as she sniffed the rose. "I also have Jack Armstrong roses, but they're not in bloom, won't be for a while." I looked closely at her. Her blonde hair looked like it had been cut with a weed whacker, barely reaching her shoulders in length, it was sticking out at odd angles all around her head. Her small face held blue eyes, a snub nose that had a sprinkle of freckles pale and thin lips, and a sharp chin. She would never win a beauty contest, but she was certainly cute, especially when she smiled. Her bulky sweatshirt gave no hint of her body, but her shorts let two legs come into view; they looked lean and muscular and slightly tanned. Actually, when I first looked at her, I believed that the sweatshirt was all that she had on; the shorts were mighty short. She looked around at my garden for another moment or two, then said her good-byes and ran back next-door. Her running gave me a chance to check out her little ass, which also looked quite muscular and also sported a light tan. ---- The Burke clan settled into their routine quickly enough; every morning I would be jolted awake by the sound of their car's repeated backfires and then clatter as Clem took off for work. Melanie wasn't a morning person, from what I could gather because there would be no other sounds from their home for at least another three or four hours. Usually the next sound would be Rachael slamming the front door as she left the house to roam the neighborhood. Ours was a block of 'Starter-Homes' so the majority of people that lived there were either renters or young couples. There were no other teenagers on our street for Rachael to play with. I did find it a little odd that she didn't go to school, but figured maybe she was being home schooled. I hoped Melanie wasn't the one doing the tutoring; Rachael didn't need to learn how to drink, smoke and curse. Chapter 2 "Hi," I heard a quiet voice. "Hi," I smiled at Rachael, but did not stop working on my azalea bushes. The bushes stretched from the corner of my fenced in back yard to the street and gave a clear indication where my yard ended and the Burke yard began. "What you doing?" she asked. "Pruning the bushes. If you let them go, they'll just grow wild and really take over the whole yard," I said. "You sure do seem to have a lot of time to do this stuff, your yard looks great," she observed. "My job lets me," I shrugged. "Oh? What do you do?" she asked. "Insurance claims adjuster," I said. I could tell that she, like most people, had no idea what an insurance claims adjuster was, and I really didn't feel like trying to explain it to a teenaged girl. Not that I believe that teenagers are incapable of grasping the concept, just that most teenagers don't have the attention span to allow for explanations "So, why aren't you in school?" I asked and moved down to get to the next shrub. "Graduated," she shrugged. "Oh?" I said and looked up at her. I supposed she meant eighth grade or something; she certainly didn't look old enough to mean high school. The outfit she was wearing was a halter-top and another pair of her extremely short shorts. Her boobs were very small, but all of her was very small. She couldn't be more than five feet tall, and surely didn't weigh one hundred pounds. "Yeah, my dad's trying to get me on at the factory, but they been lying off, and I been looking for work, but it's hard to find work, you know?" she said and watched as I trimmed away some more dead branches. "How old are you?" I asked, intrigued. "Eighteen," she answered. "You?" I was stunned; she didn't look eighteen, I'd never had guessed it. "Nope, I'm not eighteen," I smiled. She rolled her eyes but smiled. "Well, duh!" she said. "I mean, how old are you?" "I'm forty six," I said and ran a couple of fingers through my thinning and graying hair. "See?" She smiled at me and ran a few of her own fingers through my hair. "Yep, you're getting old." I had to admit, it felt kind of nice to have her touch me; it's been a long time since I've had any female companionship, outside of my pornography. My wife decided that she needed a little excitement and being married to an insurance claims adjuster wasn't providing that. Being shackled to a biker that refused to commit to marriage and slapped her around whenever it suited him was just fine by her. That was twenty years ago; and of course, I'd dated around, even gotten serious about one or two women, but in the last five years, it just seemed like too much trouble, so I bought Anastasia from a breeder, and settled down to becoming a fussy old man. She put a finger under my nose, squinted at me and then smiled. "I bet you'd look cool with a mustache," she said. I laughed. "Honey, I'm not worried about looking cool. I'm a little old for cool." "You're never too old for cool," she said and Tired of standing up. She sat down on the grass and crossed her legs. Those shorts of hers had only a thin strip of cloth at the crotch and it was evident to me that she was not wearing any underpants with them. I glimpsed her crotch for just a second, then tore my eyes away and began my gardening work in earnest. I'd glanced long enough to determine that the straw coloring of her hair on her head was a natural color. I wondered if Clem was her natural father; both Melanie and Clem had mousy brown hair, both with quite a bit of gray in it. I supposed the amount of alcohol those two consumed could have added to the gray in their hair, and the wrinkles on their faces. I finished my trimming and invited Rachael in for something to drink, something non-alcoholic. She looked at the tiny watch on her slim arm and shook her head no. "Sorry, I got to go get lunch ready," she said and got to her feet and sprinted next door. I collected my tools and went into my back yard. Chapter 3 "Hey, pal," I heard Melanie's scratchy voice call out to me a few days later. My name is not 'Pal' and I hate when people do that sort of thing. "Yes, Melanie?" I politely asked. I was outside watering my lawn, having just gotten back from a claims dispute. "Me and Clem are going out tonight, you know, to celebrate our twenty first anniversary," she said. "Well, congratulations," I smiled insincerely. Maybe I shouldn't be so judgmental. My wife and I didn't drink, smoke, or fight, and we didn't make it to seven years of marriage, much less twenty-one. "Yeah, it's kind of a big deal, you know?" she smiled proudly. Some people shouldn't smile, at least not until they put their teeth in. "Anyway, I was wondering if you'd do us a favor." "What?" I asked. I didn't think I'd like her idea of a 'favor.' "Could you keep an eye on Rachael for us tonight?" she asked. "What? Why?" I asked. "She's eighteen, right?" "Yeah, but I don't like the idea of leaving her by herself, you know?" Melanie said. "Sure," I agreed. "Don't worry, she's housebroken," Melanie cackled and turned around to leave. "I'll send her over when me and Clem are getting ready to leave." "More than I can say for you," I thought. Then her last statement hit me; I was going to be baby sitting at my house, not just sticking my head in and checking in on Rachael every now and then as I'd thought. "Hey, wait!" I called out, but Melanie was already gone. ---- "Oh!" Rachael gasped. "You have a kitty cat!" "Yes, you're not allergic, are you?" I asked as I ushered Rachael into my living room. I liked the outfit she was wearing; a sports bra and nylon running shorts. Somehow, knowing that she was eighteen and it was legal to look made her all the more enticing. "I don't think so," Rachael said and bent to pet Anastasia. "What's his name?" "Her. Her name is Anastasia," I said. The running shorts crept up and exposed a good portion of her compact backside to my gaze and I had to shift slightly, to avoid displaying an obvious erection. "Hi Anastasia," she said and Anastasia let the girl pet her for a moment before she waddled off. Rachael looked around my living room, probably the first time she'd seen a clean home in a long time. "What's for dinner?" she asked. I opened my eyes a little in surprise; Melanie hadn't said anything about feeding her too. I nodded my head toward the kitchen and she followed me. It wasn't the girl's fault that her mother hadn't said anything to me about dinner. I fixed dinner for her and myself, chicken breasts stuffed with spinach and feta cheese, new potatoes, and bow tie pasta with pieces of turkey bacon in a base cream sauce. "That was pretty good," Rachael, said when she'd finished shoveling the meal down in record time. "Really?" I asked, amused. "I don't know how you tasted any of that, you didn't even chew it." "Yeah," she said. "But what was that green stuff in the chicken?" "Green stuff?" I acted ignorant. "There was green stuff in your chicken?" "Yeah, missed in with the cheesy stuff," she said. "There was no green stuff in my chicken, you must have had the old piece. Damn, I thought I threw that out months and months ago," I teased. "Uh uh!" she protested, looking a little worried. "Silly," I smiled at her. "It was spinach." "Spinach?" she made a face. "Yuck, I hate spinach!" "Not any more," I said. "You just told me it was pretty good." "Yeah, well I meant, it was pretty good except for the spinach," she corrected herself. "You are full of bull," I teased her and began to pick up the plates. She began to pick up her plate and carried it to the sink. "Just put that it the dishwasher," I said and she looked around. "Wow, you have a dishwasher?" she said. At first I thought she was kidding, and then I remembered, the house next door did not have one. "Yes, right here," I said and pulled it open. She loaded the plates and glasses in the unit, the looked around for something to do. "I'm going out in the back yard," I told her. "I didn't get a chance to water the lawn back there this afternoon." She tramped through my house after me. ---- "Oh!" she gasped. "You have your very own swimming pool!" "Yeah," I said. It's probably warm enough, wait thirty minutes, we just finished eating, and then we'll go swimming." "Oh, um, I don't know how to swim," she said and looked crestfallen. "Well then just stay in the shallow end. "I don't have a bathing suit," she said. "What you have on is fine," I said. "Then I'll get you one of my tee shirts and sweats while your clothes are in the dryer." She looked around my back yard. "Well, where is the dryer?" she finally asked. "Inside, in the laundry room," I said and sprayed from side to side with my hose. "Oh," she said and looked longingly at the pool. "You can go dip your legs in while I finish this up, by the time I'm finished, it'll be a half hour," I suggested. This kept her occupied for all of about five seconds. "Is it thirty minutes yet?" she asked. "You have a watch on your arm, I reminded her. "You tell me." I hurried to finish my yard work and cautioned her not to get in until I got back. I ran inside and put my swim trunks on. My ex-wife would have laughed at the sight of me in those swim trunks; they were the 'old man' variety. "The yard's fenced in, go skinny dipping," she would have hooted. And normally I would have, but I had a young lady waiting on me, and I did enjoy having her around, didn't want to scare her off. ---- She stood in the shallow end as I paddled back and forth a few laps. She luxuriated in the cool water, even plunged her head under a few times and tried to see how long she could hold her breath, which I thought was pretty brave for someone who didn't know how to swim. On one of my laps around, she stopped me. "Can you show me how to swim?" she asked, the desperation quite evident in her voice. "Sure," I said. I stood up in the shallow part of the pool and supported her with my hands while she clumsily kicked and splashed. My right hand was on her shoulder, but that was impeding her progress, so I shifted it slightly. Suddenly, my hand was cupping her firm little tit. My left hand was on her firm belly, thumb in her belly button, and my fingers were deliciously close to her little pussy. Honestly, I was not trying to cop a feel, I was not trying to titillate myself, satisfy my own salacious desires, and I was simply trying to teach this child how to swim. My cock was throbbing in my swim trunks, but I bent to the task of teaching her the fundamentals of swimming. I slowly wandered around and around the shallow end, cupping her tit and stroking her belly and crotch. I guided her out to the deeper water, but when she saw the water was at my shoulder height, she became extremely frightened and threw her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist. This had the unfortunate, or fortunate, depending on how you want to look at it, consequence of pushing her pussy right against the tip of my cock and her tits; such as they were, mashed against my chest. I slowly, but deliberately walked her toward the shallow end, but she did not let go of me until she salt the safety of the steps against her small ass. Her blue eyes looked into mine the whole time. "Okay, we're in the shallow end," I reassured her. "Why don't you try on your own here in the shallow end? I'll go stand by the other end in case you get too close to the deep end, okay?" She did seem to have it, and swam, clumsily, but it was swimming, on her own. I tried valiantly to will my cock down, but it had been a while synch the old boy had gotten rock hard, and he was going to stick around for a while. "I did it!" she crowed as she swam out to me and again her arms went around my neck and her legs wrapped tightly around my waist. She quickly, childishly pressed her lips to mine and kissed me happily. I smiled to her and walked her to the steps of the pool again. The whole way, her pussy rubbed deliciously, enticingly against the very tip of my throbbing and desperate cock. "Had enough yet?" I asked and she nodded her head yes. I got out, rapidly, and quickly turned so that she would not see my raging erection, and fetched her the towel I'd brought out for her. "I'll get the tee shirt and sweats for you; they'll be on the couch inside," I said and ran inside. I lay a large tee shirt and pair of sweat pants on the couch. A moment later, she entered the living room, towel wrapped around her, just under her armpits. The hem of the towel reached to just under her ass cheeks, and I did my best not to look. I picked up the sports bra, nylon shorts and tiny bikini panties that lay on the porch, wrung them out by hand, and then brought them inside and tossed them into the dryer. When I returned to my living room, Rachael was trying to figure out the 'All-In-One' remote control for my television. I noticed that the sweat pants still sat on the couch; she had only my tee shirt on. The tee shirt reached down to her mid thigh. "Can you get MTV? It's almost time for my favorite show," she asked me and I nodded and pulled up the channel for her. She sat on the couch and proceeded to tell me all about the plot of a fairly banal show. I don't know why we had to watch it; it was a repeat of a show she'd seen already. I would have gotten up and gone through my paperwork, checked for e-mails or incoming faxes, anything but watch this dismal excuse for a television show, but Rachael sat with her knees under her chin, and gave me a dead on view of her blonde pussy. I sat and looked at her pale pink lips, watched as her slit opened slightly, then watched when she sat back slightly and exposed her puckered anus to my fascinated eyes. Anastasia came in and wanted to be cuddled and I obliged. Rachael came over and stroked the cat's head and back a few minutes while a very loud commercial played. Finally, the show was over, much to my relief. As I said, it was a repeat of a show she'd seen already, and it really wasn't that interesting of a show. I looked at the grandfather clock as it chimed 10:00. Rachael Pt. 02 "I do not know what time your bed-time is," I said and got to my feet. "But mine is a half hour ago." She dutifully turned off the television and followed me upstairs. I showed her where the bathroom was and where her bedroom was. Outside the door of her bedroom, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed me good night. I went through my own bedroom to my private bathroom. Three strokes of my cock and I spurted heavily into the toilet bowl. ---- That night I had a nice long series of erotic dreams and was reluctant to wake the next morning. They'd been interrupted only slightly when the Burkes' noisy car clattered home, but the Burkes never came over for Rachael, so I turned over and returned to my naughty dreams of their daughter. ---- In the morning, she dressed in her sports bra and nylon shorts and again kissed me on the lips and thanked me for watching her last night. I again went to my private bathroom and stroked my cock to a juicy climax. Chapter 4 "Hey Buddy," Clem called out over the azalea hedgerow. My name is not Buddy. "Yes, Clem?" I politely answered. "Um, there's this new Country and Western band playing at Cooters tonight," he said. "Hmm, I really don't care for Country and Western all that much," I politely said. "Buddy, you don't know what music is, then," he said through narrowed eyes. "Yeah, well I'll just keep suffering through Pat Metheny and Jaco Pastorius and Allan Holdsworth," I said. "Who?" he asked, then shrugged his shoulders. "Well, anyway, we was wondering if you'd watch Rachael again for us while me and Melanie get out, you know, cut loose a little." "Sure, no problem," I agreed. Let them 'cut loose,' get drunk and scream at each other anywhere but right next door to me. Plus that, Rachael was a real treat for me. I was slowly butt surely becoming infatuated with her. ---- She came over almost immediately after Clem slunk back into his house. I set about making our dinner while she rattled on and on about some twins she'd met about five blocks over. They were eighteen too, both red heads and freckled and really cool. I half listened to her while the soup was simmering and I fixed our hot ham and cheese sandwiches and ladled soup and we sat to our meal. "Mr. Mitchell makes them pray before every meal," Rachael informed me. "Well, do you want to pray, then?" I asked. "I don't really know how," she admitted, ashamedly. "Simple," I said. "Put your hands together like this," and showed her a 'chapel,' "and then say 'Thank you God for this meal which is a gift from you to us. Amen.'" "That's it?" she asked, a little dubiously. "That's it in this house," I said. "God doesn't want food getting cold while you're sitting there praising it for hours and hours like some people I know. Keep it simple, He's kind of busy, let Him get back to His work." She laughed at that, but shook her head in agreement. Again, I don't know how she tasted anything; it just disappeared from her plate and bowl. "Can we go swimming again?" she asked. "We have to wait thirty minutes after eating," I reminded her. Thirty minutes is a long time when you have an eighteen year old wanting to know if thirty minutes is up yet. "What kind of soup was that, anyway?" she asked as I ladled the left over soup into a plastic container for storage. "Garden vegetable," I answered. "It didn't have spinach in it, did it?" she asked. "No, no spinach," I smiled at her. What the hell would that matter anyway? It was already being digested in her belly. "Good, what did it have in it?" she asked and leaned up against the counter and watched as I continued to ladle it into the storage container. "Rachael, the time to ask that is BEFORE you shovel it in your mouth, not AFTER," I teased her. "Come on, Mr. Jim, what did it have in it?" she giggled and bounced impatiently. "Let's see, there was fresh zucchini, summer squash, carrots, cauliflower..." I said. Her face was a mask of horror as she realized that she'd actually put zucchini and squash in her body. "You're not going to die," I reassured her. Finally the thirty minutes were up and she tramped outside to wait for me while I changed into my swim trunks. I came outside and she was standing in her bra and panties, her very short sundress draped on the arm of the chaise lounge. "We need to get you a swim suit," I commented as she jumped in the pool. I laid our towels on the chaise lounge and walked to the pool. She laughed and excitedly did her clumsy crawling stroke. She even braved the deep end of the pool but I kept a very close eye on her. Again, my cock twitched and rose happily as I noticed that her panties became translucent when wet. Her tiny ass wiggled back and forth as she swam around, and I luxuriated in the beautiful sight of an eighteen-year-old ass. We war both pretty waterlogged by the time she tired of swimming and I quickly hid my erection from her view. I did my best not to openly stare at her, as her blonde pussy was quite visible in her wet panties. I also did my best not to openly admire her tight little nipples; they stood up hard and proud in the cool night air. "Tomorrow, if your parents will let me, I'll take you to get a swim suit," I told her as I made my way to the house. "Really?" she excitedly asked. "You'll take me shopping?" "For a swim suit," I reminded her. "Not an entire wardrobe." ---- This time, she wore her sundress while waiting for her panties and bra to dry. She found some very boring show to watch and I found some office work to do while she amused herself with my television. I was just about finished when I noticed that she was sitting in my recliner in the office. Her knees were up to her chin, giving me a full view of her pussy and tiny ass hole. My cock, which had calmed down somewhat, was again on full erection within seconds. "Mr. Jim?" she asked when she noticed that I was looking her way. "Yes, sweetie?" I answered. "How long you been sitting there?" "Not long, I guess," she shrugged. "I'm kind of tired, can I go to bed now?" "Well, sure, honey," I said. "Let me get you a tee shirt to sleep in. That's something else we'll have to get you, a nightgown or something to sleep in." "Okay," she agreed and followed me to my bedroom. She looked at my king sized bed with open admiration. "Your bed is huge!" she said. "Yep, but somehow, Anastasia manages to take up most of it," I laughed and handed her a tee shirt. "Good night," she said and kissed me lightly on my lips. She left my bedroom, already pulling the sundress off, which gave me an unobstructed view of her round ass as she walked out of the room. I was building up my endurance; it took all of five strokes of my cock and I was spurting long streams of my come into the drain of my shower. Again, I settled down for a night of erotic dreams about the innocent little girl that slept in the guest room down the hall. ---- The Jangling of the phone shattered a dream of Rachael on her hands and knees while I knelt behind her, prepared to enter her tight pussy. "Hello?" I groggily said. "Jim? This is Melanie, listen, Clem and I are in jail, on a bunch of bull shit," Melanie's raspy voice hissed in my ear. I woke up as best I could, got the pertinent information and called a buddy of mine, a Bail Bondsman. An Insurance man should always know a bail bondsman, never know when a client will need one. I gave him what information I could and hung up. Had it not been for the sweet little girl just down the hall, I would have told Melanie 'Tough shit,' and hung up on her. But because I genuinely cared for and genuinely liked the young lady I was baby-sitting, I did what I could for the Burkes. ---- About two hours later, another erotic dream of Rachael swallowing my load as the excess dribbled out the corners of her mouth was interrupted by Ronnie's call. "Jim, this is Ronnie," he said. "Listen, your buddies are in a world of shit." He proceeded to fill me in. Seems that some cowboy asked Melanie to dance (must have been extremely slim pickings at that bar) and grabbed her ass while on the dance floor. Well, Clem didn't cotton to that and broke a beer bottle over this guy's head. Broken glass and beer everywhere and fists began to fly. The poor bastard bled to death from a punctured jugular vein before the paramedics could arrive. As for Melanie, seems that she had a previous conviction she'd fled the state of Tennessee just prior to the incarceration hearing. As a result, the state of Georgia wasn't in any hurry to grant Melanie bail. "And as for Clem, involuntary manslaughter, they set the bail at one hundred thousand," he told me. "I'm sure you could afford it, but if they skip, that would leave you holding the bag." "Thanks Ronnie," I said and hung up. Chapter 5 Gray dawn light was filtering in the small kitchen while I sipped my coffee. Rachael stumbled into the kitchen, scratching her ass cheek. This had the effect of raising the hem of the tee shirt and giving my tired eyes glimpses of her blonde pubic hair. "Can I have some coffee?" she asked and I poured her a cup and added a liberal amount of sugar and cream. She looked out of the window at her house and noticed that her parents' car wasn't in the driveway. She sat down at the table with me and we sipped our coffee in silence. When she finished her cup of coffee she again looked out the window, even though she had to be aware of the fact that if her parents had driven up, we'd had heard them long before we'd seen them. "Rachael, I have to talk with you," I began. I know I don't win any points for subtlety but I really didn't know how else to approach the subject that her parents weren't coming home any time soon. "What happened to my mom and dad?" she shrieked and Anastasia yowled and ran under the couch. "They're fine," I tried to reassure her. "Well, not really, they did manage to get themselves arrested in a bar fight last night." I told her what little bit I did know and asked her if she had any family, aunts or uncles or grandparents that she could live with. She did not know of any living relatives, and even if they were alive, they wouldn't want anything to do with Clem or Melanie. --- It was Saturday; there was little I could do for either Melanie or Clem, so after a while, with the sun fully out in all its glory, I suggested that we go to the mall and look for an appropriate swimsuit, and a nightgown, as it looked like she would be a guest in my home for a few days at least. She put her bra and panties on and her sundress from yesterday and I opened my garage. She was suitably impressed with my 1965 Mustang and we roared off to the mall. "When I learn to drive, that's the kind of car I'm going to get," she said when we pulled into the parking lot and she noticed the numerous glances we received. "Uh huh," I said. "That's a thirty thousand dollar car, Rachael. Why don't we get you a bucket of bolts first?" "What ever," she huffed and I steered her toward the JC Penney's store. "That's where the old people shop," she protested. "Take a look, honey," I laughed. "I am the old people." "No you're not!" she said. "I mean, people in there forties and stuff!" "Rachael, I'm forty six," I reminded her. "Oh, yeah!" she giggled. I would have forgiven her anything when she giggled. I let her steer me to a women's shop in the center of the mall. She looked and looked and hated just about everything they had in their swimsuit selection. "The best time is in the spring," the sales girl very snottily informed me when I asked if they had anything else. "Well, there is one that I do like, but I'm not sure you'll like it," Rachael hemmed and hawed. "Rachael, I'm about to lose my flipping mind in here," I said in absolute desperation. "Pick something and let's go. I can't take another minute of that horrible music." She pulled a two-piece swimsuit off the rack and she was right; had she pulled that off the rack in Penney's, I would have immediately said 'NO!' It was a thong bottom and the top was barely more than postage stamps. In flesh colored pink, no less. "Why do you like this?" I asked. 'Cause it's you know, kind of sexy," she shrugged her shoulders. "Kind of trashy," I concurred. "I knew you wouldn't like it," she huffed. "I wouldn't let MY daughter wear that," some snooty bitch sneered at us. "Oh?" I asked. "And how is your daughter doing at the convent these days?" Rachael giggled and I reluctantly took the swimsuit to the counter and charged it. "Please let's get out of here," I begged; my head was pounding from the hip-hop music that was blasting at me from the sound system. "But I thought we needed a nightgown," Rachael reminded me. We went into another trendy boutique where the music wasn't as loud and she did not make it all the way to the sleepwear section before she was looking at the blouses and skirts and shorts and jeans. "When's the last time your mother or father bought you clothing?" I asked. "Um, try never," she said. I did the math in my head and came up with a dollar amount for what my sanity was worth to me. "Okay, kid, you've got two hundred dollars to spend," I told her. "Once that's gone, though, you're finished, okay? I'll be in the coffee shop." "Oh, thank you!" she gushed and gave me a hug and kiss on my lips. I jammed the two hundred dollars into her hand, reminded her that she needed a nightgown or something appropriate to sleep in and went to find the coffee shop. The mall layout is somewhat confusing to me; nothing is a straight line from one point to the other. About an hour later, just as I was about to get up and go looking for her, she came into the area where I was sitting, bags in both arms and smiles from ear to ear. We piled the bags into the trunk of the car and headed home. I put the top down which did not stop Rachael from telling me all about the clothing that she DIDN'T buy. "Well there were a bunch of bags, so you must have found something to buy," I finally commented. "Yeah, I'll show you," she smiled. At the next red light, she impulsively kissed me on the cheek, which made me smile. ---- Once home, I carried all the bags into the house and realized that it was two o'clock. We hadn't eaten breakfast or lunch. I quickly prepared a chef's salad and didn't listen to the litany of all the things she wouldn't eat on a salad. Had I prepared a salad her way, it would have been a head of lettuce and a clump of nondescript dressing. True to form, she shoveled it in without a thought of what it actually was. "That was great," she agreed and stacked her bowl and mine into the dishwasher. When she bent over to put the bowls in, the hem of her dress rode up and her very cute little butt, in their very tight bikini panties, peeked out at me. I wondered how long I could live with such a cute and unaware girl under my roof before I developed horrible calluses on my hand and needed much stronger glasses. ---- "Okay, you ready to see all the stuff I got?" she asked and I said sure. We went into the living room where the various bags were. I fully expected her to simply pull the clothes out of the bags and show them to me, but she intended on modeling them. "I got this really great cowboy shirt, it'll go great with either shorts or jeans, she began and pulled her sundress off over her head and put the cowboy shirt on. It had fringes right where her breasts caused the blouse to stick out and looked quite enticing indeed. Finally, we were down to the swimsuit and the nightgown and I was actually relieved that she left the room to put them on to show them to me. It gave me an opportunity to shift my cock in my pants; it had been bursting to get out. "And this is for sleeping in," she was saying, but you can also wear it under like you know real sheer tops and stuff." The teddy she was showing was very fetching on her and I had to shift my cock in my pants again when she left the room. "And I know you didn't like this one, but I'm real happy you got it for me and stuff," she was prattling as she walked down the hall toward the living room, as if I have supersonic hearing and could hear her from any room in the house. Again, had she pulled it off the rack at Penney's, the answer would have been no. The top was strapless, her tits were all that held it up. The bottom was barely a string between her ass cheeks and her pussy hair, as sparse as it was, peeking peeked out on both sides. As diplomatically as I could, I pointed out that she would need to trim 'down there.' At least she had the grace to blush over this fact and dashed off to her bathroom. A few minutes later, when my cock had finally started to subside, she walked back into the living room, and this time there was no hair visible. "Taa dah!" she said and raised her arms in triumph. "And that's it!" "Thank goodness," I sighed. "Thank you so much!" she gushed again and sat down in my lap and kissed me on the lips. "No one's ever bought me so much stuff before!" "You're welcome, sweetie," I said and tried to pat her somewhere that wasn't bare flesh, but realized that what was covered was worse, and finally had to contend with a pat on her back. I was in a fog; her tight little ass was resting squarely on my pent up erection and her tits were pressed into my arm. My other arm was in contact with bare teenaged flesh. Do I push her off, or sit there like a dirty old pervert? When she put her head on my shoulder, I decided to be a dirty old pervert, for a moment longer, at least. I closed my eyes and reveled in having an eighteen-year-old girl in my lap, arms around my neck and head on my shoulder, ass on my cock and tits pressed into my arm. I wondered briefly if she had any concept of what she was doing to me. "Ready to go swimming?" she asked and leapt off of my lap and scurried to the back door. "Wait until I get out there before you jump into the pool," I cautioned and went upstairs to change into my own swim trunks. My endurance was shot; I don't even think I had my hand fully around my cock before I blew my load into my toilet bowl. ---- We swam back and forth until we were waterlogged again, and as usual, I had to hide my erection when I got out of the pool. Chapter 6 My dreams were filled with Rachael; we made love in many various positions, all culminating in breathless wonder for the both of us. I was almost as tired when I woke up late the next morning, as I had been when I went to sleep. But there were wonderful smells coming from my small kitchen. I was greeted by the sight of a teenage girl, dressed in a half top and panties as she flipped another pancake onto a very tall stack of pancakes. There was a mug of coffee sitting at my chair at the small table and I sat down and sipped it. It was way too strong and it was cold. "Good morning," she smiled and set the large stack of pancakes in the center of the table. "Good morning," I smiled back. "Please go put some clothes on." She stuck her tongue out at me but ran upstairs and came back down a moment later in the same half top and some very short shorts. We ate heartily, but I swear, that small girl put away twice the amount of pancakes that I did, and I was groaning by the time we got to the last pancake. "What are we going to do today?" she asked. "I hadn't really thought about it," I admitted. "Is there anything you'd like to do?" "Nah," she said. "Well, I can always do paperwork, which what I normally do on a Sunday," I said and got to my feet. "Can I go over to Sara and Tara's house?" she asked. "Of course," I answered. Rachael Pt. 02 She really was a delight. I wasn't her parent, she was eighteen, could do what she pleased, but still felt it necessary to ask permission. She tramped upstairs to put on some shoes and kissed me on the cheek before tramping out of the house. ---- I did have plenty of paperwork I could do, but the first thing I did was go to the Internet and pull up some teen pornography. My endurance was a little better and I managed to get through a couple of downloadable streaming videos before blowing a load in my shorts. I saved one of a shorthaired blonde choking on a huge cock. She made oral love to it and let it blow an immense load on her cute face and perky little tits. Another one intrigued me and I watched as a teen in a skimpy bathing suit took a very large cock in her tiny ass hole. She was a brunette, though, so I didn't save it to my hard drive. The door slammed downstairs, so I quickly exited the 'net and pulled up QuickBooks. Rachael stomped upstairs and I wedged myself under my desk so that the large wet spot in my shorts would not be visible. "Mr. Jim?" she called out. "In here, honey," I answered and bent to the task of amortizing of an automobile the company had decided to 'Total out.' "Well, Sara and Tara are at church with their Dad," she huffed and flopped down in my large recliner. "Their neighbor says it's the Pentecostal Church, so they don't get finished until way late." "That's a shame," I commiserated. "What do you normally do, with your parents, on Sunday?" "Nothing," she said and drew her knees up to her chin. The material of the shorts plastered itself to her crotch and her pussy mound was clearly outlined for my gaze. : Well then, you're off to a great start," I smiled and completed the paperwork for the automobile. "Shut up," she giggled. "I'm bored." "Honey, there's a million books in the bookshelves downstairs. There's a stack of dvds you can watch. I can set up my laptop and let you surf the Internet on my computer," I offered. "Really?" she sat up and looked at my computer. "Really," I smiled and retrieved my laptop computer. It was better, anyway, because I'd brought the laptop with me to the last client's home and could access the information I needed without having to burn it onto a disc. I got up from my seat, making sure to hide my wet spot with the case of the laptop. Rachael barely waited for me to get out of the way before she was sitting at my desk, clicking with the mouse and typing away on the keyboard. I was glad I'd turned off the speakers to the damned thing; I was sure her taste in web sites would match that of her taste in television shows. I had been sitting in the recliner, bent over the finer points I'd put into the system regarding his home damage when I heard Rachael take in a deep breath. I glanced up and saw her looking at me. She blushed furiously and quickly clicked something before I could get up and look at what she'd looked at on the Internet. She went back to 'surfing' but every now and then, I would feel her eyes looking at me. I was sure the poor girl didn't know how to erase her search history; I'd find out later what had made her gasp like that. ---- After a couple of hours, my eyes were burning and I suggested lunch for the two of us. She announced that she would fix our lunch and dashed downstairs. I put my laptop up to recharge the power supply and quickly pulled up the search history. It was my turn to gasp. She'd pulled up the list of videos I'd watched earlier, had no doubt seen either the perky little cocksucker I liked or the swimsuit girl getting her ass plowed and the man's streams of sticky cum oozing out of her hole and off of her round cheeks. "Oh, well, so Mr. Jim isn't a flipping saint," I muttered and went to my bedroom to change out of my sticky shorts. ---- Lunch was a quiet affair, a simple salad and a turkey sandwich for each of us. She nibbled non-stop and I flashed back to my mpeg of the little blonde choking on a cock. I blushed lightly and looked away from her. "Can I go see if Sara and Tara are out of church yet?" she asked and I nodded yes. She kissed me on my cheek, playfully rubbed my beard stubble (I don't bother shaving on Sundays) and ran off. ---- Sara and Tara must have been done with church, because it was getting close to suppertime and I had not seen Rachael yet. I was glad that I remembered that their name was Mitchell and did a quick search on the Internet. I located three Mitchell families within a radius of ten blocks and decided to start in and work out in calling the Mitchell's' homes. Mr. Mitchell answered on the second ring and agreed to send Rachael on home. Rachael tramped in about fifteen minutes later and put her arm around my waist and leaned heavily against me as I finished stirring the chili I'd made for our supper. I put an arm around her slim shoulders and hugged her to me for a second, kissed the top of her head and then got down two bowls for our meal. She ate quietly, but quickly. : What's on your mind, kiddo?" I asked. "Nothing," she said. "Bull," I said. "Normally I can't get you to hush up, now I can't get you to talk. What's up?" "Mr. Mitchell sure does talk a lot about sin and stuff," Rachael said. "I mean, is there something wrong with what I got on?" I liked the shorts and I liked the tight top that left her cute belly bare, but then again, I've relegated myself to the 'pervert' or 'dirty old man' ranks ever since the first time I babysat for this little nymph. "Well, what do you think?" I asked. "I don't know," she mused. "But he was telling me that I was, oh, what did he say? That I was 'tempting impure thoughts by flaunting my flesh.'" "Sounds to me like Mr. Mitchell might be the one with a problem," I said. "I mean, yes, honey, it is a little revealing, yes, it is a little tight, and yes I can see how someone might get excited looking at you." "Really?" she perked up. "Excited looking at me?" "Yes, Rachael," I smiled. "You are a very attractive young lady, and I'm sure there's a log of guys that would get excited looking at you." "Really?" she asked again, happily. "Really," I said and picked up our bowls. "You're just saying that," she huffed and her shoulders slumped again. "No, I'm not," I said and cupped her face in my hand. "I think you're very attractive." "Yeah, but I don't have big old boobs like my mom," she complained. "You don't need big old boobs," I said. "What would you do with them anyway? Push them around in a wheelbarrow?" She giggled at that thought and finally left the room to find a terrible television show to watch. ---- I was given another kiss on the lips at bedtime and retired to my room for more erotic dreams of my little temptress down the hall. Chapter 7 In the morning, I had her dress conservatively in jeans and blouse and I put on my gray suit. We went down to the County lockup to see what was going on with the Burkes and what to do about Rachael. "Nah, the only family I got left is my brother. He's in Oklahoma, but he's a real ass hole," Clem muttered when I asked about Rachael's care. "Can't you keep her 'til I get out? It shouldn't be all that much longer." "Clem, you killed a man," I reminded him. "You most likely won't be getting out any time soon." "But it was an accident!" he whined. "That's not up to me, though, that's for a lawyer to help you with," I said and got the information to call Matthew Burke in Oklahoma. Melanie Burk was a little more responsive, genuinely appreciated me bringing Rachael to see her, but she had no family that she ever knew of; she'd been raised in one foster home after another. "What are you going to do with me?" Rachael asked with a tremble in her voice. "I guess I'm going to give your uncle a call," I said honestly. I dialed the last known number and a drawling voice answered after five rings. I introduced myself, told him I was calling regarding Rachael Burke, his niece. "That fucking bitch ain't coming here," he barked. "I got enough trouble with my own God damned brats, don't need her shit too." Clem Burke was right; his brother was an ass hole. "What are you going to do with me?" Rachael asked again and this time burst into a fountain of tears. I took her into my arms and kissed the top of her head and let her sob until she was all cried out. "For right now," I answered, "You're going to live here, with me." "Really?" she asked happily. "Don't worry, I won't be any trouble at all. I'll cook for you and clean, and everything. I'll even clean out Anastasia's litter box and everything." "Sweetie," I smiled, "That's not necessary." "Well, I got to do something," she said. "I mean, I can't just live here for free." "Why not?" I asked. "'Cause that's not right," she said determinedly. "Okay, I tell you what," I said. "I'll charge you a kiss good night every night. Fair enough?" "No!" she pouted. "Get serious!" "God, kissing me is that bad?" I teased. "No, it's not that," she giggled. "It's just that, that's not a real fair deal." "I think it is," I shrugged. "Do you have a key for next door?" "There's one under the mat," she said. "Why?" "Let's get the rest of your stuff, and any food they might have so that it doesn't go to waste," I suggested. Chapter 8 It took a couple of hours to transfer Rachael's meager belongings and a jewelry box of Melanie's over to her room in my house. I didn't like prying, but I had to go through the one and only checking account the Burkes had and found, no shock that they were living paycheck to paycheck. They did not have the money for rent or utilities, which were due in a few days. The deposit records indicated that it was to be another two weeks before Clem was to get paid again. Anything of any value, real or sentimental, was stored in my garage. Clem's clothes and Melanie's clothes held no value to me or to Rachael, so we just left their clothing there. The beer and liquor held no value to me; I do not drink, and Rachael wasn't all that interested in it either, so we left that there as well. Maybe the landlord would like it. ---- "Mr. Jim?" Rachael asked over dinner. "Hmm?" I answered. "You was married a long time ago, right?" she asked. "Yes, that's right, why?" I answered. "I seen the picture of you in a tuxedo and some woman in a wedding dress, she was real pretty," she said in a rush of words. "Well, you wouldn't expect me to marry someone ugly, would you?" I teased and got up to put my dishes in the dishwasher. "But there ain't no other pictures of you or her, what happened?" she asked and got up to put her own dishes in the dishwasher. "She left," I said and shrugged. "What?" she asked, incredulous? "Why?" "Said I was boring, I was stifling her, she was suffocating," I said, repeating all the hateful things my wife had screamed as she was hurling her things into a couple of boxes. "She's out of her mind," Rachael said and shook her head. "Just wait and see," I teased. "Pretty soon, you'll be saying the same stuff." "I'll never leave you, Mr. Jim," Rachael said and put her arms around me. I kissed the top of her head and smiled sadly. "What was her name?" Rachael asked. "You'd never believe me if I told you," I smiled. "Come on!" Rachael giggled. "I'll tickle it out of you!" "Honey, I'm not ticklish," I told her but she had to prove it for herself. Finally, I grabbed her in a bear hug and began tickling her exposed ribs. "Tee hee!" she squealed. "Stop it! Tee hee!" It was purely an accident, but her sports bra somehow broke. It had been washed one time too many, that's for sure, and it just finally snapped. She was so busy struggling and just didn't notice that her perky little tits were exposed, that her hard little pink nipples were on full view. I immediately stopped tickling her. "Oh!" she gasped and clasped the remnants to her chest and ran out of the room. I started the dishwasher, and busied myself with combing Anastasia's luxurious coat. Rachael came back down in along tee shirt and stuck her pink tongue out at me. "No fair," she huffed. "I'm ticklish and you're not!" "No one ever said life is fair," I said and she found a terrible television show to watch. Chapter 9 One Friday, I had a long day at work and came home to a bored Rachael. She was out in the front yard, cutting the grass, that's how bored she was. She had taken to doing household chores for me, but rarely ventured out to do yard work. I had to admire the way her tight tee shirt clung to her sweaty body and the dark stains of sweat on her shorts. She smiled happily when she saw me pull up in the driveway. "Hey, you have a little pink dress, don't you," I asked when we entered the house. "Yeah, it's supposed to be for you know, like special occasions and stuff, you know, like a wedding or someone's birthday party or stuff like that," she said. I'm not sure how a wedding and a birthday party rate on the same level, but that's not really all that important. "Well, why don't you grab a shower and put that on, and we'll go somewhere nice to eat?" I suggested. "Like Red Lobster?" she gasped in hope. "I was thinking, well, okay, yeah, like Red Lobster," I said and she whooped and ran off upstairs to shower and change. I put on a button down shirt and a pair of blue jeans and loafers. When she came downstairs, I was pleased with what I saw. The dress was a simple one, but what pleased me was that she had combed her hair and dabbed on a little make up. ---- "I've never been on a date before," she informed me as we drove to the restaurant. I looked at her and she was glowing from the excitement of being on a date, real or imagined. I wasn't going to spoil her excitement by telling her this wasn't a date, this was me being tired of cooking. Just like a real date, though, I opened her door for her and let her hold my arm as we made our way to the Red Lobster. The smell outside was enough to make me want to eat anywhere else, but it seemed to excite her even more. The hostess must have assumed that we were father and daughter, or she'd seen lots of old geezers with cute young girls in her day. She smiled appropriately and seated us at a booth. Instead of sitting across from one another, though, Rachael sat on my side of the booth and put her head on my shoulder while we waited for the waitress. I took a cue from my young charge and ate the unappetizing processed food the chain tries to pass off as food as quickly as I possibly could so that I didn't have to taste any of it. "Where to now?" she asked, still breathless from the excitement of being on a date. "I guess we could see a movie," I suggested. That was a bad move on my part. As bad as her taste was in television shows, her taste in movies left a lot to be desired as well. But while the loud, pointless movie blared, she held my arm and rested her head on my shoulder. ---- Afterward, she held onto my arm as we walked to my car. I was quite relieved to drive home. My head was still buzzing from the extreme volume of the movie and I just wanted to get home and sleep; it had been a long day for me. As we went up stairs, I paused outside of my bedroom door. I expected her to kiss me good night like she always does, but this time; she put her arms around my neck. I put my own arms around her waist, rather than just let them hang by my sides. "I had a really great time," she enthused. "Good, I'm glad," I said. "Thank you," she went on. "And thank you," I said. Then she jammed her tongue into my mouth in a very clumsy attempt at kissing. I know what you're thinking; I should have pushed her away immediately and at first I was going to do just that. But you have to remember, I've been infatuated with this little girl for a few week now, she was of legal age, she was the one who had initiated the kiss, and besides all of that, to push her away would have hurt her feelings. Slowly but deliberately I maneuvered her tongue into a more sensual kiss. By the time we pulled apart, she was breathless, I was breathless, and my come was dripping down my pants leg. "Oh my God!" she enthused. "Wow!" I agreed. "What do we do now?" she asked, bubbling with excitement. I was thankful I'd already come, or I may have made a horrible decision. Instead I smiled kindly at her. "Now we say good night, and our date is over," I said, and patted her back. "Oh, okay," she said and kissed my lips good night. I opened the door to my bedroom and she walked down the hall. "By the way, Mr. Jim?" her voice floated back to me. "Yes, sweetheart?" I asked. "You look very handsome in jeans, you should wear them more often," she offered. I vowed right then and there that I was going to buy ten more pair of jeans. Chapter 10 "Why don't you invite the Mitchell's over?" I asked her the next morning. "We'll do a barbeque and they can swim in your pool. It'll give me a chance to meet them and their parents." "Really?" she squealed but was on the phone with Sara or Tara before I could even answer. "So what time are they coming?" I asked when she bounded into the room. "Eleven o'clock," she answered. "Oh, good, that'll give you time to put some clothes on," I said. She giggled and ran upstairs to change out of her baby doll lingerie We'd bought it when I finally convinced her to give Penney's a try. While we were there, I found a one-piece bathing suit that was basically two vertical strips of cloth to cover her little tits that joined behind her neck and a swath of cloth to cover her ass and pussy. It wasn't conservative by any stretch, but it was better than the pink dental floss we'd bought earlier. She also liked the matching little 'cover-up' that really didn't cover up anything. But like I said, when Rachael giggled, I couldn't deny her anything. We quickly cleaned up the house (I never let it get out of hand, so it was a quick affair. ---- Mr. Mitchell must have read somewhere in the Bible that eleven o'clock means precisely eleven o'clock. Rachael ran to answer the door and she and two long legged red heads squealed at each other. A very tall red headman stood behind them peering into the living room. I introduced myself, we shook hands and I looked around for Mrs. Mitchell. Mr. Jim Mitchell and I could hear the pounding of the twins and Rachael's feet upstairs as she showed them her bedroom. "Grill's out back," I said and ushered him through our home to the back yard. He was not a very warm or friendly man, didn't seem to find much joy in anything. He looked around the back yard with very little interest. A screaming Rachael and two screaming twins raced past us in their swimsuits and jumped into the pool. "You let your daughter dress in such a provocative swim suit?" she barked at me. "Yard's fenced in, she's on her own property, and all the parts that need to be covered are covered, I said, fighting very hard to keep my voice as friendly as possible. "But suppose someone sees her?" he sputtered at my nonchalant attitude. "Well, again, the yard is fenced in, they'd have to be peeping over the fence, and while I might not agree with the swim suit (really didn't see a whole lot wrong with it) it is a lot better than what I saw some of the other young girls trying on," I said, trying to appease this prick. His own daughters were dressed in bikinis that were a bit more revealing than what Rachael was wearing, but I didn't point that out. He was obviously blind to his daughters but looking for fault in any other young lady out there. "How do you take your burger?" I asked. "Well done," he said and squinted at Rachael as she and the twins squealed and splashed around. Rachael Pt. 02 Rachael's swimming was improving; I was proud of her, and the Twins and she raced back and forth. I was slightly perturbed by the obvious erection that Jim Mitchell sported as he watched Rachael. Like I'd told Rachael a few weeks ago, Mr. Mitchell was the one with a problem, not her. "So, where is Mrs. Mitchell?" I politely asked as I flipped our burgers. "Paving the road to Hell," he spat. "The harlot is living in sin with a black man, drinking and probably using drugs as well. I tell you, I spend my whole weekend on my knees praying for my daughters' safety when they visit that whore" "I can't blame her," I thought. "I'd need a couple of drinks after a few hours with you." "And you?" he asked. "Where is Rachael's mother?" "Left me and Rachael for a Pentecostal Minister," I said and shrugged. "Said I was too open minded." He obviously read somewhere in the Bible that laughter was an evil sin, or just didn't catch the blatant jibe. I finished our hamburgers and called to the girls. Laughing and chattering, they got out of the pool and crowded around. We fixed the burgers and sat down at the picnic table that Rachael and I had put together and put out here. "You are not going to pray?" Jim Mitchell gasped, shocked that anyone would consider putting beef in their mouths while it was still hot. "You know what, Jim?" I said. "You're absolutely right. Let's pray." I must really love Rachael to put up with this horse's ass. "God is good, God is great, think Him for the food on our plate, Amen," I chanted and before Jim Mitchell could launch into an argument, Rachael and Sara and Tara chimed in with 'Amen' and we dug in. He sat and fumed through the meal, bitter about the entire ordeal. Even Rachael's cover up did little to cover up his lustful gazes at her. I made a mental note to never leave Rachael alone around this judgmental pervert. He was the type to rape someone and blame him or her for it. The twins whined that I would not let them jump into the pool immediately after they'd finished eating, but Rachael firmly chimed in with 'That's the rules at this house.' I beamed at her with real fatherly pride. "So, Jim, where do you and Rachael go to church?" Jim Mitchell asked. We don't," I admitted. "I just have a hard time with someone else forcing me to accept their interpretation of God's Word." "Oh?" he sneered like most righteous people do. "So where does Rachael get her information about how God wants a young lady to act and conduct herself?" "By example," I said and finished chewing my burger. "We lead by example, not by spouting quotes and scriptural doggerels that supports our own beliefs and negates someone else's beliefs." "Well, that's the argument of a man that wants the easy way out," he sneered again. "'Judge not, lest ye be judged,'" I said and smiled. "Jim, I'm not going to argue with you, I'm not going to try to convince you that how I'm living is right or wrong; you've obviously already made up your mind about that, and I'm not going to try and convert you or your two daughters. I am perfectly willing to accept you as you are, and respect your beliefs as they are. Think you could do the same?" Even as narrow minded as he was, he had no real argument for that logic. ---- He clouded our horizon for another two hours and I was not sorry to tell the Mitchell's thanks for coming over and firmly closing the door behind them. Rachael put her arms around my neck and kissed me happily. "You called it my pool." She said and bubbled. "What?" I asked her and half wished she'd put some clothing on, and was half elated she still wore the backless swimsuit. "You said, 'invite the Mitchell's over and they can swim in 'your pool' and we'll do a barbeque,'" she reminded me. "Honey, this is your home, it's your pool," I said and rubbed her back up and down a few times. "I love you, Mr. Jim," she enthused and kissed me again. I smiled happily and hugged her tight to me. "And I love you too, Miss Rachael," I said and then gave her a swat on her backside. "Now, go put some clothes on." She giggled and ran out of the room. I don't know where they get their energy; I was worn out from a day with the Mitchell's. Chapter 11 "Are we going out on another date tonight?" she asked when she bounded into the room. "Nah, how about a quiet evening in tonight?" I suggested. "Oh, okay," she said somewhat subdued. "I mean, what did you have in mind?" I asked. "Not Red Lobster, surely." "No, I was thinking maybe we could go skating or something," she said and stubbed at an imaginary piece of dirt on my carpet. "I mean, that's where most of my friends from school went when they went out on dates and stuff." "You know what? That sounds like a great idea," I agreed, although I really would have been delighted to stay at home and do absolutely nothing. "Let me go take a quick shower and change, and then we'll go." My endurance was definitely improving. I stroked my cock for a few minutes before finally splashing a good-sized load onto the shower wall. Erotic, naughty images of Rachael floated in my mind's eye while I stroked my hard on. Then I rinsed the sweat off, dried off, and found a new pair of blue jeans and a short-sleeved pull over shirt. Rachael looked younger than her eighteen years in her crop top and shorts, white socks and tennis shoes. I noticed that her hair was getting longer, almost whitened by the summer sun. "Almost time to get you a haircut," I suggested as we strolled over to the car. "Yeah, my momma always cut it (which is why it always looked like a weed whacker had gotten after it) but I don't know what to do now," she admitted. "Well, I'll get you an appointment at my salon, if you want," I suggested. "Where you get your hair cut?" she asked. "Yeah, what's left of it," I said. "Really? How much is it?" she asked. "Don't worry about it," I said. "Mr. Jim, I can't keep taking stuff from you all the time," she said. "Well, how much money do you have?" I asked her. "Well, none," she admitted. "But still..." "Then how do you propose to pay for a hair cut?" I asked. "I don't know," She said quietly. "Rachael, really, don't worry about it, it's my pleasure to take care of you," I said and pulled up to the skating rink. It really was my pleasure to take care of this little girl. I had some nieces I hadn't seen in a long time; they were the heirs to what money and property I had, they were the ones I doted on and lavished expensive gifts upon for birthdays and Christmas. For that, I usually received a very short telephone call to mumble 'thanks' and 'bye.' ---- Skating was not as unendurable as I'd imagined; I was actually kind of good at it. The music was loud, the arena was darkened to the point of being dangerous, but Rachael was very awkward on her skates and kept falling into me. I could not help but notice that she wore no bra under the crop top and her nipples were quite hard; the air conditioner was running at full blast in that place. I was thankful that my jeans and tight underwear hid my constant erection from being noticed. Just as the night before, at the 'date's' end, a very enthusiastic tongue kissing session took place outside of my bedroom door. I was becoming more and more infatuated, obsessed with Rachael. I know I could have taken advantage of the situation, but I did have a conscience. We said our good nights and I had to go whack off before I could even think about going to sleep. I wondered if she masturbated, well I'm sure she did, all teenagers do, but I wondered what images she masturbated to. Chapter 12 A week later, I was laying out on my hammock when Rachael, dressed in her two-piece bathing suit, sauntered out to me. "Mr. Jim?" she asked. "Hmm?" I answered, but did not take the dark glasses off or look at her. I was trying to avoid the inevitable erection I would get if I looked at her. "Can Sara and Tara come and spend the night? I've never had anyone ever spend the night and I would really like it if they could and they're my only friends in the whole wide world and..." she said in a huge spurt of words. "Hey, hey, hang on," I shushed her. "Yes, if Mr. Mitchell says it's okay, they can come over and spend the night. But I have to speak to Mr. Mitchell to make sure HE says it's okay, okay?" A moment later she brought the cordless phone to me and I was talking with Mr. Mitchell, the happiest man in our neighborhood. I told him our dinner plans and obviously my menu selection and what time I would make the girls go to bed, and for my part I did agree to bring the girls home in time for church the next morning. "Oh, thank you!" Rachael gushed and suddenly was lying on top of me in my hammock and mashing her lips against mine. Any attempt I had of avoiding an erection was shot to hell right then and there as she crawled over me dressing almost nothing at all. I gave in, momentarily, to the temptation, and hugged her tightly to me. She relished the hug and I was rewarded with another kiss. "I love you, Mr. Jim," she gushed and was off and running inside to prepare for her guests. I followed her inside and took out a couple of breasts for our dinner. I made her put on a long tee shirt and a pair of baggy shorts just in case Mr. Mitchell happened to be lurking around. Thirty minutes later, our doorbell rang and the squealing and shrieking began. ---- Dinner was a noisy affair, as was everything with these three. Swimming followed, after the required thirty minute wait, and both Tara and Sara oozed and ached over Rachael's daring and naughty swimsuit. Again, I didn't think heir's was much more daring than what the twins were wearing, but I'm not a prude. I also noticed that Rachael's narrow hips and perky little tits were still more developed than either Tara or Sara. I knew Rachael was a 30 B, and would guess the twins to be about 28 A or 28 AA. Rachael's belly was a 26and her hips were a31, but I would guess the twins were each 25 waist and 26 or 28 hips. They were pale and freckled and bony whereas Rachael was lightly tanned. After they tired of swimming, and I tired of swatting mosquitoes, we all tramped inside where I popped some kettle corn for them and they found an insipid movie to watch. Rachael was gaining quite a collection of dvd movies, none of which appealed to me in the least, and they rummaged through the stack of her movies, and even laughed at my selections and found the loudest one to pop in. Anastasia wisely went upstairs; I followed her shortly afterward and went to my office to get some work done. ---- "Mr. Jim?" Tara, or was it Sara (?) wandered into my office. "Yes?" I asked and smiled at the girl. "Um, I forgot to bring a nightgown to sleep in," she said. "Oh, do you want me to drive you to your home so you can pick one up?" I asked. "Oh, no, no, nothing likes that. Um, Rachael said that you used to let her sleep in your tee shirts, and I was just hoping I could borrow one, you know, to sleep in tonight," she said. "Well, sure you can, Honey," I smiled and went to my room to fetch her one. I almost collided with her; I didn't realize she'd followed me into my bedroom. "Oops!" she giggled as my hand grazed her breast. She may not have been embarrassed, but I was. She thanked me with a huge smile on her face and skipped out of my bedroom. I looked at my wristwatch and deduced that they had another half-hour of the movie to go, and then it would be bedtime for them. I must be getting used to Rachael's movies; I could recognize the closing credits music over the rest of the music and sound effects her movies were laden with. I tramped back downstairs and found three somewhat sleepy girls cuddled together on the love seat. "Bed time, ladies," I said and they seemed to be re-energized by the idea of having to go to sleep. They bounded up the stairs and barreled into Rachael's room. I shut everything off downstairs, made sure the doors were all locked securely, and went upstairs. The laughter and noise from Rachael's room told me that they were not asleep yet. I went to my office to finish up the case I was working on. ---- "Mr. Jim?" Sara, or was it Tara (?)Came into my office with my tee shirt on. "Yes, Honey?" I asked. "I was just wondering what laundry detergent you use?" she innocently asked me. "I think its Gain," I answered. "Coupon came in the mail for it. Why?" "Because it smells real nice," she said and lifted the hem of the shirt to her nose and took a deep sniff. This had the effect of flashing her red pubic hair and thin, pale slit to my eyes and I sat in stunned silence. She lowered the hem of the tee shirt and her smile widened. With a mischievous giggle, she ran out of my office. ---- When I came to my senses, I got to my feet and shut down my computer and left my office. Quietly I opened Rachael's door a crack (I'd oiled her hinges so that I didn't wake her when I stuck my head in to check on her in the middle of the night) and the girls were sitting on the floor facing one another. "Okay, I flashed Mr. Jim my pussy," Tara said. "Sara, truth or dare." "Truth," Sara answered. "Um, okay, how far did you let Zack get with you?" she asked her sister. "I already told you, he stuck his finger in my pussy," Sara laughed. "No way!" Rachael hooted. "What's that feel like?" "Kind of gross, really," Sara admitted. "I mean, he's not hot like Mr. Jim is, he's got all these pimples and stuff." I stood, a little surprised. I never considered myself 'hot' or anything. My ex-wife certainly wouldn't have classified me as 'hot.' Of course, swimming nearly every day with Rachael was helping to tone up the old muscles and flatten the belly a little. I softly closed the door and counted to ten. Then I knocked softly on the door. I was rewarded by a couple of guilty screams and I opened the door. "Girls, it is bed time," I said firmly. "Remember, church in the morning." Rachael wasted no time in bounding to her feet and diving into the bed. The twins were not as quick to follow, but follow her they did. I smiled and wished them a good night's sleep. Chapter 13 I slept very soundly with my erotic dreams of Rachael's sweet pussy wrapping itself around my throbbing cock. I dreamt of her sucking slurping mouth and dreamt of spewing long ropes of my come into her mouth. That dream seemed so real I was sure my sheets were sticky from that wet dream. But they were not sticky or stained when I woke up the next morning. I was relieved; I really did not want Rachael to see that sort of thing on my sheets when she did the laundry. ---- Rachael and Sara and Tara were downstairs cooking breakfast when I came downstairs. The twins giggled about something, but Rachael wouldn't look at me. We finished breakfast and the twins and Rachael ran upstairs to get dressed and I drove the three of them to Mr. Mitchell's house. The twins thanked me and bounced out of the car and up the walkway to their front door. Mr. Mitchell waved hello to me and Rachael and I smiled politely and returned his wave. Rachael stared out of the car window all the way home and dragged her feet in returning inside. "Okay, what's wrong?" I asked. "Nothing," she said and tried to leave the room. "Bull," I said. "You haven't said two words to me all morning, and normally I can't get you to hush up. Something's wrong, what's up."? "Nothing," she said again. "Rachael, I know you better than you think, something's wrong, what is it?" I said firmly. I guess I must have sounded angry because she burst into tears and ran from the room. ---- I waited a few minutes then went upstairs to her bedroom. She was face down on her bed, sobbing her little heart out. "Honey, what's wrong?" I asked, genuinely concerned. "No!" she howled. "You're going to hate me!" "What?" I asked, alarmed now. "Sweetheart, I could never hate you! Come on, what's wrong?" "No!" she cried all the harder. "You'll just hate me and kick me out and I'll have no where to go and you won't love me no more! Please, just leave me alone!" "Rachael, I won't hate you, I won't kick you out, I promise," I tried my best to console her. I picked her up and cuddled her in my lap. She clung to me tightly and sobbed piteously. "Shh, shh!" I said. "Good God, what foolishness did those twins put in your head?" ---- I had hit the nail on the head, just didn't know it for a few more minutes. Finally, among gut wrenching sobs, the story came out. "We was playing 'Truth or Dare,' you know, where you ask someone 'Truth or Dare,' and they have to say either 'truth' or 'dare' and then you get to ask them a question and they have to tell the truth or you dare them to do something, and they got to do it," she sobbed. "I'm familiar with the game," I said. "Really?" she sniffled. "You've played it before?" "Yes, but it's been a few years," I said and hid my smile. "Anyway, Tara and Sara was going on about how hot you are and Sara said 'If she thought you was so hot she dared her to go show you her pussy and she did and then you came and told us to go to bed and I wanted to because you told us to but Tara and Sara wanted to stay up and go see then movies I told them about, you know the ones on your computer and I went and showed them. Sara said she'd let you stick your weenie up her butt if you wanted to, but she's all talk you know, and anyway Tara dared me to put your weenie in my mouth like that girl does in that movie and I knew you was asleep 'cause you were snoring like you always do when you're asleep and I snuck in and Tara and Sara watched and I put your weenie in my mouth, and you groaned and I though you were awake, and all this stuff came out of your weenie and I swallowed it and then I took your weenie out of my mouth and we went to bed" she was crying in earnest again by the time she finished her story. I was stunned. So it had not been a dream that had been my little angel's sucking and slurping mouth I'd shot a load of come into. "See? I knew you'd hate me!" she howled in anguish, mistaking my silence for rejection. She tried to crawl off of my lap, but I gripped her tightly and kissed her face lightly, kissing the tears away. She struggled momentarily then relinquished to the kisses. "Shh shh," I said. "I do not hate you, I'm not mad at you and I'm not going to kick you out." "Thank you, Mr. Jim," she said and threw her arms around my neck and hugged me tightly. "You're welcome, Sweetheart," I said and we sat like that for a while, rocking back and forth, arms around each other. Finally, I kissed her on her lips, the same lips that had been wrapped so sweetly around my cock a few hours ago, and tried to disentangle myself from her. She didn't let go and I tried again, but again I couldn't budge her. I gave a mighty heave but she was stuck fast and I heard her giggle. She was back to her old self, being a little joker. I smiled happily; I had my little Rachael back again. "Mighty brave for someone who's ticklish," I warned. "No!" she shrieked but I was digging my fingers into her ribs. "Tee hee, stop!" she shouted. "Tee hee, you're going to make me pee myself! Stop! Tee hee! He Tee hee!" And we were rolling around on her bed and somehow she wound up on top of me and her blue eyes looked lovingly and happily into mine. She bent down and kissed me, sliding her tongue into my mouth. We kissed for several long moments, giving and receiving love from each other. "I love you so much, Mr. Jim," she whispered and snuggled against me. My arms went around her and I held the girl tightly to me. I could feel her heart beat against mine. Rachael Pt. 02 "And I love you so very much, Sweetheart," I whispered in her ear. I don't know how long we lay like that, but I finally rolled her onto her back and kissed her on her freckled nose and got up. She lay smiling up at me and I left her room. Chapter 14 "Mr. Jim?" she asked as we stacked our lunch plates in the dishwasher. "Hmm?" I answered. "Was it good?" she asked. "Yeah, it was fine, Even though you don't like spinach, that was a good salad," I answered. "No, silly, I mean, you know, when I um, well you know," she said. "What? Oh! You mean, was THAT good?" I said, realization dawning on me. My cock jumped slightly in my shorts at the realization of what she was asking me. "Yeah, THAT," she said and blushed hotly and looked away. "Honey, I was sound asleep, I thought I was dreaming," I said. "I guess it was pretty good if I thought I was dreaming." "Oh," was all she said, and then she was gone from the small kitchen. ---- I readjusted my cock in my shorts and went to my office. I pulled up the two clips that Rachael had shown Sara and Tara, plus a few new ones I'd found, all starring my favorite shorthaired blonde teen. ---- I watched as she let a rather fat cock split her blonde muff open and fuck her soundly. The clip ended with the fat cock spurting hot come onto her raw looking pussy and belly. I watched as she climbed onto a long cock and slid herself down on its length. She smiled happily as she fucked herself up and down on the hot pole until the man pulled out and shot ropes of his come onto her round ass and back. I watched the last clip I'd found of her; another girl was happily licking and sucking the blonde's tits and sliding a dildo in and out of her blonde pussy. ---- I heard Rachael scrambling up the stairs. I hurriedly shut down the video files and pulled up Microsoft Office. "There's nothing on, Mr. Jim, can I go swimming?" she huffed. "Sure, that's a good idea," I agreed. "Go put your suit on while I get mine on.'s ---- Much to my chagrin and to my cock's delight, she wore the pink two-piece suit. We swam back and forth, I trying to burn off that built up steam and she not helping in that suit of hers. She especially didn't help by jumping on my back and wrapping her tan legs around my waist. She was happy, though, as I 'rode' her around the pool a few laps. ---- We got out and dried off and went inside for dinner. As Monday was a workday for me, I went to bed a little earlier than did she. ---- My dreams were again of my little angel, coming to me and undoing the top of that swimsuit. Those succulent tits and pale nipples begged to be nibbled and sucked and tongued. My cock was engulfed in her hot pussy and I groaned in happiness as I emptied my balls into her hot young pussy. I heard her giggle; how I loved her giggle, and then I heard her moan in contentment as she orgasmed. I woke up and turned on the light. That hot sucking mouth was again wrapped around my cock and she was groaning as her fingers dug at her hot little pussy. She screamed in alarm as I grabbed a handful of her hair and looked into her blue eyes. I smiled and pulled her up to me. "What are you doing?" I whispered in her ear, my hands busily stroking her naked flesh and making her moan and purr in happiness. We kissed hotly and I rolled her onto her back. I lavished my tongue onto those hot little tits of hers. She clutched my head to them and growled in excitement. She couldn't help but giggle as I traveled my tongue down her belly (she's quite ticklish) and gasped aloud as my tongue lapped around her puffy pussy lips. The smell was heavenly, but the taste was absolutely intoxicating She howled aloud in orgasm as I sought out her little bud and sucked it into my mouth. "Are you going to fuck me now?" she asked in a breathless whisper when I finally relinquished my hold on her clitoris and crawled back up to rain kisses on her beautiful little face. "No, my little darling," I said. "You're not on the pill and I don't have any condoms." "Oh," she sighed in deep disappointment. "Honey, you don't want to get pregnant, do you?" I asked. "I guess not," she said and looked away from me. Then I heard a sob. I rolled her over on top of me and kissed her face while she cried. "Yes, I do want to get pregnant, I want you to always love me and always need me, and I don't ever want to lose you and I'll have your baby and be a really good mommy," she sobbed against my chest. I did not make love to her that night. My cock wanted to, very badly, but I knew that I would just be taking advantage of a frightened and lonely little girl. ---- When I regained some strength, I positioned her pussy above my mouth and eased her face toward my resurging cock. She quickly got the idea and we were locked in a sixty-nine, which I found out is not a very safe position with Rachael. She bit down on my cock as a powerful orgasm flooded her pussy and I am very fortunate she did not draw blood. She agreed with me that she would rather we not repeat that position as he enjoyed my cock being its full length. ---- She smiled happily at me that morning as I kissed her awake. "Your bed is nice and soft," she said and scrambled out of it. "Please put some clothes on, or I'll never get to work," I groaned as she strutted around naked. She struck a seductive pose with one hand on her hip and thrust her boobs out at me. She shrieked in laughter as I swatted at her ass, but did go and shrug into a pair of jeans and a loose tee shirt. Chapter 15 While at my real office, the one that I use to meet clients, I drafted up a 'Positive' and 'Negative' list. There were a lot more 'Positive' than there were 'Negative.' ---- "I love you, Mr. Jim," she said when I called her at home and told her to get dressed up; we were going to Red Lobster. "You know, Rachael, if we're going to be sleeping together, it's kind of silly to be calling me 'Mr.,' don't you think?" I said. And was rewarded with a giggle. ---- We sat in a booth, her leaning against me while we waited for our food and chatted about not much in particular. The food was as close to inedible as I've ever had the displeasure of eating, but she ate with great relish and wouldn't stop prattling about how great it was. If it made her happy, I wasn't going to spoil that. After the meal, I took her for a drive out to the north section of Atlanta. We got out at the brink of a hill and looked down at the city below. I sat on the hood of my car and pulled her to me so that her juicy little ass rested squarely on my erection. My arms held her around her waist and she put her small hands on my larger hands. I kissed the back of her neck and nibbled lightly on her shoulder. "Oh, Mr.... Jim," she sighed. "Rachael," I began. "I love you so very much. You have no idea how lonely I was before you came into my life. I didn't know how lonely I was until you came into my life." "Me too," she sighed as my hands rubbed up and down her belly. "And I don't ever want to let you go," I went on. "Me neither, she said and leaned harder into my throbbing cock. "And I know we've only known one another for a short time, but I feel like I could spend the rest of my life just like this, with my arms around you," I said and again kissed the back of her neck. "Oh," she moaned. I seem to have found an erogenous spot on her. I lightly bit down on her neck and she wiggled her ass deliciously against my cock. "Rachael, I said and pulled my right hand from her waist. "You make me so very happy," I continued. "You make me real happy too," she sighed and I kissed her neck again. "And I was hoping you'd make me even happier by becoming my wife?" I asked and brought the two-carat diamond ring into view. "Ah!" she gasped "What?" "Will you marry me?" I asked and slipped the engagement ring onto her finger. "You mean it?" she asked and twisted around in my grasp. "You're not playing, are you? You really mean it?" I nodded my head yes and she hugged me tightly to her and we kissed frantically, hungrily. ---- The whole ride home, Rachael kept looking at the ring I think a bomb could have gone off in the back seat, she would have never noticed. ---- Melanie was thrilled with the news and cried real tears of remorse that she would not be able to attend the wedding of her only child, but promised that as soon as she got out, she was going to be a real good grandmother. Sobriety, forced or not, was actually pretty good for her. She had lost some weight and gained some class. She was due to be extradited back to Tennessee as soon as they found the paperwork on her previous conviction, but until that day, we promised to visit her weekly. Clem, on the other hand, didn't seem to care one-way or the other. He just kept whining about how unfair it was that he was behind bars, it was an accident, couldn't I bail him out since I was now family, and so forth and so on. He didn't even thank us for the carton of cigarettes we'd brought for him. ---- "Jim?" Rachael asked as she drove her pick up truck home. "Yes, Honey?" I answered and put my hand on the steering wheel to correct the lurch she inadvertently caused when she turned to look at me. "Oh! Sorry," and she giggled. I could forgive her for anything at all when she giggled. "I um, I know that's my daddy and all, but..." and she grew very silent. "But what Honey?" I asked and kept my eyes on the road. "I don't know," she said and I had to tap her on the leg to make her slow down; she was pushing the speedometer up a little too high. "I don't think I like him a whole bunch, you know?" she said. "I mean, that's terrible, 'cause he's my daddy, but you know?" "Sweetheart, it is possible to love someone, but not like what they do," I said. I did not tell her that I absolutely did not like her father, that I thought he was a total piece of shit; it would have done no good at all. "Oh," she said and nodded her head in agreement. She turned on the turn signal, and made sure to check all three mirrors before pulling off the exit ramp. Chapter 16 Mr. Mitchell thought it an absolute waste of time to teach Rachael to drive; women did not need to know such things. He was also quite judgmental when he found out that I was in actuality not Rachael's father but was her fiancée. Behind his back, though, I taught Sara and Tara to drive the pick up truck also. ---- "But why?" Rachael whined when I refused to make love to her. "Because we're not married yet," I said and smiled. "What's three days?" she pouted and pushed her food around on her plate. "Seventy two hours," I said and stuck my tongue out at her. "You're not funny," she huffed and started shoving food into her mouth again. ---- The wedding was a simple one, the Justice of the Peace came out and we were wed in our back yard. It seemed fitting to the both of us; that was where our love had begun. Both Sara and Tara were her maids of honor and my older brother was my best man. Rachael charmed my brother from the moment they met with her giggle and genuine happiness. That didn't stop him from giving me a bunch of shit about marrying someone so young. I too had to wonder at the wisdom of marrying an eighteen year old at my age. ---- She was nervous in anticipation as I slowly undressed her. Underneath the simple white dress she had worn a very sexy sheer strapless bra and matching thong panties. Nibbling on her erogenous zone, her neck and shoulders, I undid the bra and nibbled down her smooth and tanned back to her sweet little ass. I eased her panties down her legs and spread her legs as wide as I could. She braced her hands against my dresser and moaned as I delved into her wet blonde pussy with my tongue. She tensed up terribly when I stopped and got to my feet. She had her eyes squeezed tightly shut and was grimacing, waiting. ---- It would seem that the twins, with no actual knowledge of their own, had told her that the first time always hurts the woman so bad, some women never have sex again. That must have been what they were whispering about during the little reception we'd held this afternoon. "That's simply not true," I laughed and held her in my lap. Within minutes, I again had her breathless with excitement as I let my fingers roam over her body. I picked up her legs and placed them around my waist. "It might hurt just little, like a bee sting," I cautioned. But then it will start to feel good, I promise." I lined my cock up with her wet and swollen pussy lips. She grunted and cooed as I fed that little hole my cock. A sharp intake of breath let me know I'd taken her virginity. I stopped my forward progress and watched the blue eyes open wider in excitement and wonder. It was she that drove the last two inches in by jamming her hips up to meet mine. I was thankful I'd masturbated just moments earlier or I would not have lasted as long as I did in her very tight and very hot pussy. I tilted my bulk forward so that the base of my cock was directly against her clitoris. She screwed her eyes tight and howled in orgasm. Shortly afterward, I shot stream after stream of my sperm into her. Then I had her get on her hands and knees, fulfilling a fantasy I'd had of this little nymph for nearly as long as I'd known her. This position put my cock at the awkward angle of nearly pointing straight down which caused it to strike her G-spot. Three minutes into this and she was gasping for me to stop; it was too intense for her to take it any longer. When she caught her breath, she finished me off with her sweet sucking mouth, and then laid her head on my chest, tracing tiny love patterns on my belly and into my pubic hair. "Jim?" she softly asked. "Yes, my Sweetheart?" I lazily answered. "You never did tell me what your wife, your first wife's name was," she said. "Oh, you'd never believe it if I told you," I smiled. "Come on!" she giggled. "Tell me!" "Her name was Rachael," I smiled and kissed the top of Rachael's head. The End. **Author's Note: I write these stories for MY enjoyment. I post them here for YOUR enjoyment. Rachael Pt. 03 *Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age. * Chapter 1 "My wife is nuts." That's the only thought I had when my beautiful twenty-year-old wife jumped up and ran outside to grab someone she thought she recognized. We were at our favorite restaurant, a small 'Mom and Pop' Italian restaurant. I'd finally convinced her that Olive Garden and Dominos weren't the only places one could get fine Italian cuisine. I was still trying to convince her that Red Lobster was not the epitome of fine dining. Everywhere Rachael went, she made friends. The waitresses loved her because she remembered their names, had in-depth conversations with them, and just couldn't seem to grasp the concept that they were there to serve us. If they had let her, she would have simply gone into the kitchen to get us our meals. She really had no concept of a 'class system' of any sorts. At forty-eight, I knew I fit into the category of 'dirty old man,' and 'should be ashamed of myself for taking advantage of such a naïve girl.' She was only eighteen when we met and were married less than six months later. Sometimes, yes, I do feel like a dirty old man and a bit of a pervert, but most of the time I just considered myself lucky that I found her first. Rachael was five feet and one inch tall, and weighed less than one hundred pounds. Her hair was the color of straw and her eyes were pale blue. Her sharp little nose was dusted with freckles and she had a sharp little chin. She would never win any beauty contests, but she was the most beautiful, most sensual woman I've ever met. ---- Her parent moved into the rental house next to my house. Being a good neighbor, I offered my assistance to the Burkes, you know the 'call if you ever need anything' kind of assistance where you hope they never call. Well, they asked me to baby-sit Rachael, even though the girl was eighteen years old. I did so, and found myself becoming infatuated with the girl. I'm not talking about the creepy kind where you stalk the object of your desire, just the kind of infatuation where you think about them a whole lot when you masturbate. The Burkes managed to get themselves arrested one night in a bar fight; thankfully, Rachael was at my house when that happened. I simply moved her into my guest bedroom and continued to care for her. It was she that took our relationship to the next step. I was content with spending time with her, swimming around in our in ground pool, and stroking myself to knee-buckling discharges over imagined images of her. She'd discovered some of the little clips I'd downloaded on my computer, little clips of a short blonde teen sucking off a large cock. Or taking a large cock in her blonde muff. Rachael snuck into my room and performed oral sex on me while I was asleep. Boy was I embarrassed! I could have sworn I'd had a wet dream. I married her a few weeks later. Call me what you will, but I do have a conscience. I knew I could have used her, had sex with her, treated her as a servant, but I had crossed over the 'infatuation' line into 'love' line at some point ----Anyway, we were at our favorite restaurant and had just placed our orders when Rachael looked up and squinted out the window. I turned to see what she was looking at. It was a transient; we used to call them 'homeless.' I don't know when it became politically incorrect to call them 'homeless.' The few that I have witnessed didn't seem to have any measurable amount of shame, so calling them homeless or transient wouldn't make a bit of difference to them. "Hey, I think I know her!" Rachael said and was up and out of the door before I could react. "See, Jim, I told you I knew her," Rachael was babbling happily as she dragged a young girl into the restaurant. Antonio began to approach our table, thought better of it and waved our waitress over to us. The smell was as close to intolerable as I'd ever had the displeasure of smelling. To say that Tonya stunk was a gross understatement; she smelled of raw sewage and sweat and burnt flesh. Rachael didn't seem to smell it at all, though and sat the girl down next to her. Patrons at other tables were looking over and glaring and our waitress looked absolutely ill. "You like lasagna?" Rachael asked. "This place has the absolute best lasagna in the world. Jim likes their sausage and peppers and that's pretty good, but I like the lasagna, oh! And they also have this great veal Sicily, you can cut it with a fork, Louise, this is Tonya, she's my friend from when we lived in Tennessee, go ahead, tell her what you want to eat." I sighed; I knew we'd be taking this Tonya character home and taking care of her for the rest of our natural lives. Every stray cat within a twenty-mile radius knew that 1142 Polk Drive had food available. I didn't complain, though; I happen to love cats. To this day I still mourn the passing of Anastasia, my longhaired cat. "Oh, and this is my husband Jim," Rachael kept babbling happily. "Jim, Tonya and I went to Stratford High School, that's where I graduated, did you graduate? I don't remember if you did or not, but anyway, Tonya was in about four or five of my classes..." Chapter 2 Tonya was bundled into the back seat of my 1965 Mustang, where she promptly vomited heartily the manicotti she'd barely chewed. Rachael was completely unmindful of any of this as she hugged the girl and comforted the now sobbing girl. If I thought the smell was intolerable in the restaurant, it was unbearable in the cramped quarters of my car, and the smell of vomit didn't improve it one bit. ---- "You go ahead and take a shower, Jim can Tonya have one of your tee shirts and a pair of your sweat pants? There's shampoo, do you need a razor? I don't remember if there is one in there or not, let me know and I'll put your clothes in the washer," Rachael was rattling off as she dragged this miserable girl upstairs. The girl that emerged from our bathroom did not look anything like the girl that went in. Tonya was actually a very attractive young lady, twenty years old, just like Rachael. She was about five feet, five inches tall, with light brown hair, pale skin and brown eyes. Her face was round and so were her boobs, her belly and her backside. She was also around eight months pregnant. I had suspected that either the girl was the fattest transient I'd seen in a while, or was pregnant. My sweat pants were pushed down underneath her belly, the tee shirt barely reached the tops of the sweat pants. "Eat the toast, it's good for nausea," Rachael was saying as she fixed the girl some eggs. After she'd finished the eggs, we got her story. ---- She hadn't graduated from Stratford; she decided that school was a big waste of time. Instead, she preferred to sit in her room and smoke pot. "Yeah, my mom's boyfriend got me turned on to the shit," Tonya sniffled. "But my old lady threw a major fit, said if I wasn't going to go to school, then I needed to get me a fucking job." She did get a job, working at a gas station/mini mart. "The one off I-75?" Rachael asked. "Yeah, that one," Tonya agreed. Anyway, she would go to work, work her ass off, then come home and whatever money she had, went to paying the bills or paying for more dope for her and Steve to smoke. After a year of this, Steve and her mother got married and Mom started making noise about Tonya moving out and getting a place of her own. "So, I'm talking with Rodney and he's all like 'yeah, I got this bitching place, you should come and live with me, it'll be cool,'" Tonya sniffled some more. It was obvious to me; even if it wasn't to my wife that Tonya had told this story before. What Rodney didn't tell her was that this 'bitching' place is a one-room apartment. And that he expected pussy to go along with half the rent. And half her dope. "But that's cool, you know?" Tonya sniffled. "I mean, it ain't like I'm this big virgin or nothing, you know?" ---- She'd worked all day long and came home tired. Rodney and about four of his friends were just sitting around, smoking dope and watching porno movies. She sat down and started smoking a couple of joints and watching the movies with the guys. "Next thing I know, I got my shorts around my fucking ankles, Rodney's sticking his dick down my throat and some guy I don't even knot's jamming his cock in my pussy," Tonya let a few well timed tears slide down. Rachael hugged the girl tightly until Tonya could continue. Rodney and his pals took turns filling Tonya's three holes for the next few weeks; all they did was smoke dope, fuck her, smoke some more dope, pass out, come to, eat, and fuck her again. In between all of that, she was also expected to go to her job and work her ass off. "Then when I find out I'm knocked up, mother fucker kicks my ass out, Believe that shit?" Tonya sobbed. She tried to go home, but her mother didn't want her either. Doug, the manager of the gas station invited her to stay with him, but he had the same idea that Rodney had; smoke a little dope with her, have sex with her, then pass her around to his buddies. That went fine, until she began to show. Suddenly the attractive girl found herself without a job or a place to live. None of the boys or men that were only too happy to fuck her when she was slim wanted anything to do with her when her belly was poking out. She decided to give Atlanta a try; she'd heard that a few of her former schoolmates had moved here after graduation. She put on a pair of short shorts and hid her belly under a loose tee shirt. Quite a few truckers were only too happy to pick the girl up and give her a ride for a face fuck. (Her words, not mine.) "Really? Who else lives here?" Rachael excitedly asked. "Yeah, one mother fucker took me all the way down to Tampa Bay, got real fucking turned on when I told him I'd been in a few gang bangs," Tonya said bitterly. "When I woke up and found out we was in Tampa, he's all like 'Oh, sorry, forgot to wake you up when we was in Atlanta, ha.' Had to let him fuck me up the ass to take me back to Atlanta when he was swinging back around." "Didn't that hurt?" Rachael asked. We'd tried anal sex a few times. Rachael said I'm too big, but that's not it; she would just tense up too much as soon as she felt the head of my cock against her tight little anus. Yes, we tried plenty of lubricant and she was always fine with two or three fingers probing her, but the moment my cock would approach, she'd clamp down. "Yeah, but what the fuck does that matter to them?" Tonya spat. "Men don't fucking care if they hurt you or not." "Jim's not like that," Rachael said and hugged me tightly. I went and took Tonya's clothes out of the washing machine and put them into the dryer. I dumped a good amount of bleach into the washing machine and started the wash cycle again, to kill whatever diseases this Tonya character had brought with her clothing. I decided to ignore the small bag of marijuana that sat along with her other worldly possessions atop the dryer. ---- Rachael hugged Tonya tightly and ushered our guest into the guest bedroom. Rachael dragged me into our bedroom and kissed me passionately. She then disappeared into our bathroom for a few minutes. I didn't think anything of her passionate kiss; Rachael was a very passionate girl. What I did reflect on was that Tonya and Rachael could have very easily been one and the same; as loving and trusting as Rachael naturally was, she could have wound up with her shorts around her ankles, being used by a bunch of stoned guys. She came out of the bathroom dressed in one of my tee shirts, holding a bed pillow underneath. "Do you think I'd look sexy all pregnant?" she asked me and my erection was immediate. She made me make love to her while she was on her hands and knees, 'belly' poking out. The idea of being pregnant was a real aphrodisiac to her; I'd no sooner pumped a large amount of semen into her pussy and she was sucking me back up to do it again. I was absolutely exhausted when my alarm went off the next morning. Chapter 3 I tried to warm up to our houseguest, but she had a real distrust of men. I made an appointment with an OB/Gyn and Doctor Tyson declared mother and child to be healthy, although she did caution Tonya about the inherent dangers of marijuana smoke on her fetus. If her words had any impact, Tonya didn't let it show. Rachael, however, with her usual cheerfulness and bubbly nature, didn't seem to notice how her friend would just lay around all day, eat constantly, then disappear into the garage. Either Rachael did not know what marijuana smoke smelled like, or was willfully ignoring it, but I did wonder where our unemployed house guest was getting the money or the connection to buy dope. I certainly wasn't giving her any money, and Rachael said she wasn't giving her any money either. Then one night, Tonya staggered into our bedroom. Why do babies only come at night? Rachael kept up a cheerful rambling chatter while I bundled the groaning and wailing girl into the back seat of the Mustang. Think I'm crude, think I'm selfish, but all I could thick was 'I just got the smell out of the car last week.' Chapter 4 Tatianna Tennessee Stevenson was born at twelve forty one that following afternoon. She was a blonde haired baby with her mother's brown eyes and measured eighteen inches long and weighed seven pounds, two ounces. She did not inherit her mother's distrust of men; she slept peacefully as I held her and seemed to like my presence in the room. When she heard my voice, her eyes would search around until she found me. Rachael was thrilled to be a 'surrogate' mother, Tonya went right back to her habit of lounging on the couch, watching insipid television for hours on end, eating ravenously of whatever food was put in front of her, and sneaking out to the garage to smoke a couple of joints. Any effort to get her to make her earn her fair share, any effort to make her responsible was met with stiff opposition and any number of excuses. I could see why her mother had kicked her out, why Rodney and kicked her out, why Doug had kicked her out, why truckers and others were willing to discard her after they'd gotten what they wanted. Rachael and I continued to try to get pregnant but her menstrual cycles were becoming quite frequent and unpredictable. It seemed as though she'd just finish one when another would start. ---- "She's gone!" Rachael wailed into the phone one afternoon. "What? Who's gone?" I asked. "Tonya," Rachael wailed. "What about Tatianna?" I asked, concerned. I wasn't in the least bit concerned about Tonya; she had, as far as I was concerned, worn out her welcome long ago. The only reason I hadn't firmly told her to either find a job or get out was because of the baby. "She's upstairs, sleeping," Rachael wailed. "Then Tonya will be coming home soon," I calmly said. "No, she's not," Rachael, wailed. I finished working with the client; he was trying to claim that a dented right front quarter panel qualified as 'irreparable' and therefore we should just 'total' his Mercedes-Benz. I calmly told him we'd be happy to bring it to court and let a judge decide, but he would be responsible for ALL court costs. The truth was that he was no longer making the kind of money he had been making and could no longer afford the car payments or the insurance for a luxury automobile. Hell, the deductible alone was a strain for him. I'm not an unsympathetic man, but don't sit there and lie to me, then expect me to help you. Chapter 5 Tonya was indeed gone. She'd left a nice little note telling us (me specifically) what we could do with our 'fucking pathetic (she misspelled 'pathetic') fucked up lives and judgmental attitudes and all our talk about rules and responsibilities.' She also helped herself to a few hundred dollars in cash as she left. It wasn't until later that I discovered that several of our DVD movies were missing; I guess that's how she was paying for all the dope; hocking our movies. "But what about the baby?" Rachael sobbed. "Well, obviously she didn't care about the baby," I said. "I mean, if she did, she wouldn't have just up and left her here." There wasn't even any mention of the baby in her hateful little note. The note was quite obviously written with the intent of hurting my feelings. In order for someone to hurt my feelings, I have to care about what that person's opinion is. On cue, Tatianna began to wail, and I went upstairs and got her out of her crib and changed her diaper, cuddled her, and brought her downstairs where Rachael was already warming a bottle. I held the baby and fed the bottle to her. Rachael cuddled up to me on the other side of me, kissed me lovingly and whispered in my ear, "One day, I'm going to give you a baby too. I'll be the best mommy in the world and you'll be the best daddy in the world." But she was still on her period, so we didn't make love that night. Tatianna slept soundly; I'd pulled her crib into our bedroom, since Tonya wouldn't be there to care for her. Rachael lovingly and happily cared for the baby while I showered and dressed for work. Once I was at work, I called my lawyer and outlined what had happened and what I wanted to do. "Jim, that ain't going to be easy," he said. "I mean, this Tonya girl can just pop up again, you know? And she's got family? They could make it pretty hard too." "Do what you can," I said. I Liked Yancy just fine; he was smart as a whip, but he was also one of the most negative, unhappy people I'd ever seen and never gave an optimistic view of any problem. I guess he did that so that you wouldn't be disappointed with any outcome. I faxed the baby's birth certificate and Tonya's little note to his office. Then I busied myself with work, anything to distract myself, to not focus on or fantasize, or build my own hopes up too much. Chapter 6 Three months later, Rachael and I stood in a judge's chambers with Yancy. The baby was cradled in my arms cooing happily. Judge Jim Walker asked a few questions, Yancy provided the proper paperwork, Judge Walker scribbled his signature, and Rachael and I were the proud parents of a beautiful little girl. Judge Walker also signed the name change forms for us; Tatianna Tennessee Stevenson was now Rachael Nicole Taylor. I requested that for two reasons; I really didn't like 'Tatianna' as a baby's name, and I didn't want Tonya to be able to track the baby down. "And Rachael is about the most beautiful name I know," I said and kissed my wife. -- We brought our little girl home, and celebrated by making love. Or at least we attempted to. Right in the middle of our little escapade, she began bleeding. This wasn't normal at all and I called the good doctor Dr. Tyson. She agreed to fit Rachael in first thing the next morning. Rachael cried herself to sleep that night; I don't know what kept me from crying. Chapter 7 "I'm going to do some tests, but based on what you've described," Dr. Tyson said gravely, " I think its cancer." ---- Three days later, we were in her office again and Dr. Tyson looked at us with watery eyes. "I know I'm a doctor, and I know I deal with this every day, but you never ever get used to telling a woman this," she said. "Rachael, I am so sorry. But it is ovarian cancer." "Well, a hysterectomy, and she'll be fine, right?" I dumbly said. "I am so sorry," the doctor said again and hiccoughed a sob. "It's a little too far gone for any surgery." It took a full minute for what the doctor was telling us to sink in. This was it. We'd never have babies together. We'd never play in our back yard wit them. The pecan tree that Rachael planted, she'd never eat the pecans that fell from it. She wasn't' even twenty-one yet, had never been to a bar to listen to a good country band, or a blues piano player. She'd never been to Las Vegas (I've never been either) and gambled on Black Jack. Isn't it funny, the silly things you think of when given bad news? Rachael Pt. 03 I don't know how I drove home. By memory, I guess. I called my office and let them know I was finally going to take that two-week vacation they kept telling me to take. ---- My secretary Anna and her husband agreed to watch Rachael Nicole for a week; they had three kids of their own and were used to a baby's schedule. ---- I took my beautiful wife on a cruise around the Bahamas and she loved every minute of it. Quite a few of the old buzzards and a few of the young studs on the ship tried to convince her to leave me; they'd really take care of her. It did a lot of good for her ego, to hear others affirm what I'd been telling her all along; that she was absolutely gorgeous. For two weeks, in the sun, we didn't think of death. For two whole weeks, we cheated the son of a bitch. I took as many pictures of her as I could. Her on the beach, in her pale pink thong bikini. Her on the deck, in her cute sailor suit. Her in her ballroom gown. The smile was always the same no matter what the outfit; she was embarrassed to have a camera pointed at her, but was happy nonetheless. ---- The end came fairly quickly; we'd been home from the cruise for four months when Rachael staggered into my home office complaining of severe pain. The doctor had her on morphine patches, to be used as needed, but Rachael used them sparingly. She said she really hated the way they made her feel, all stupid and stuff. So for her to complain of pain was unusual. Then she vomited and fainted. ---- Paramedics took her to the hospital and Dr. Richards, our oncologist met the ambulance at the hospital. "Jim, it really doesn't look good," he said after he'd admitted her and examined her. ---- The last time I saw her conscious I took her hand in mine. She smiled at me, feeling my hand. I took the baby's hand and put it into Rachael's other hand. She tried so hard to see the baby, but just couldn't. At first she couldn't open her eyes, then when she finally did, they wouldn't focus. "Baby, do me a favor," I asked. She nodded her head yes, unable to speak anymore. "Tell God 'Thank you' for the two wonderful years we shared together," I said. She slipped into unconsciousness smiling happily, husband and child holding her hands. She lingered on for three weeks but never regained consciousness. Finally, after an all night prayer vigil I had them pull the plug. There are no words, there's no amount of preparation that will ever help you prepare for the moment that the alarm goes off, signifying that all vital signs have ceased. You can steel your nerves, brace yourself, but it still just breaks into your head, into your heart like a wrecking ball slamming into you, that high pitched whine the machine makes. There are no 'condolences' that can ever console the overwhelming grief when the person you love so completely is forever taken away. If I could have, I would have traded places with her. Far kinder it would have been in my eyes, for me to have died rather than to have to continue living without her. Chapter 9 Again, people tried desperately to offer their condolences, words of encouragement, but there isn't anything anyone can say that will help bring any comfort when the box is lowered into the ground and you realize that, with a sudden harshness, this is real and is really happening and Rachael Marie Taylor will never again bounce into the bedroom and tell you that she loves you with all of her heart. (Whenever she did that, I would groan, because I knew she wanted me to take her to Red Lobster.) ---- A few weeks after the funeral, Jim Mitchell, the father of Rachael's two best friends, Sara and Tara Mitchell, twenty-year-old red head twins, stopped by the office and asked me if he could take me to lunch. To say I was shocked was an understatement. The one time he'd been to our house, he had scowled and frowned and found fault with everything. Because he did not approve of our marriage, his two daughters often had to sneak to our house to see Rachael, even though legally they were adults. He and his daughters had come to the memorial services funeral; Rachael would have been thrilled with all the friends she had. Even Antonio put a black wreath on the door of 'A Taste of Sicily' and he and all the waitresses attended the funeral. I was also surprised, and pleased to see the hostess from the Red Lobster there. Jim Mitchell graciously agreed to be one of the pallbearers and I thanked him for that. ---- Jim and I went to a small deli down the street and sat down with our ham and Swiss on rye. "Jim, the reason I came to see you is I need your help," he said before I could even begin to enjoy my sandwich. "Anything I can do for you or the girls," I said. That's what Rachael would have wanted me to say. She might be gone, but she wasn't forgotten. "I'm dying," he said simply and bit into his sandwich. "Wait, what?" I asked. "I have a tumor the size of a goofball, and it's growing every day," he said simply and continued to eat. "Doctor tells me it's the kind that's resistant to surgery; imbedded in the tissue, you know." "Jim, there's all kind of doctors," I began. "And I'll be the first to admit, I've done a horrible job of preparing Sara and Tara for the real world," he went on as if I wasn't even talking. "Vie done my best to prepare them for the next life, but they don't have a clue what's going on in the world around them." "And what do you want me to do?" I asked and took a bite of my sandwich. I wanted to spit it out; they put pickles on the damned thing. "Keep an eye on the girls for me," he said. "I'd rest a lot better knowing that a friend I know I can count on is looking after them." We weren't friends. Like I'd said, the one time he'd come over to my house, he had stomped around and quoted biblical scripture and religious doctrine and tried his best to make Rachael feel 'dirty' for wearing a revealing bathing suit. When he found out that Rachael wasn't my daughter, he'd called us 'heathen' and liars. But both of his girls had loved Rachael and she treasured them and their friendship immensely. "You got it," I smiled a smile I didn't feel. "Thanks, Jim," he said sincerely, and smiled. We ate the sandwiches in silence then took our leave of one another. He surprised me by shaking my hand in a warm grasp. Chapter 10 He must have been prophetic, less than two months later a lawyer called me to assist with carrying out James Mitchell's estate. ---- Sara and Tara sat numbly in the small house they had shared with their father. I simply told them how sorry I was and let Tara hold the baby. I had gotten to the point where I could tell them apart; Sara had a bigger splotch of freckles across her nose and was the more talkative of the two. Although quieter, Tara was the more daring of the two. ---- On the first night they'd spent the night with Rachael, they'd sat up in Rachael's bedroom playing 'truth or dare.' Tara had been dared to flash me her pussy. And that is exactly what she did. She brazenly walked into my office, asked me what kind of detergent I used on the tee shirt she'd borrowed and lifted the hem to 'sniff' the fragrance. Her pussy had been sparsely covered with orange hair, pale pussy mound and pink lips on prominent display. ---- An older man was trying his best to grope Sara's nonexistent breasts and bony rump and pencil thin thighs as he 'consoled' her and I firmly put my hand on his shoulder and asked him for help in the kitchen. "Hey, just trying to offer the girl my sympathy," he lied. "Well, offer it from across the room; if I see you touch her or Tara one more time I'll call the police," I said. "Why'd Deacon Jack leave?" Sara asked me a moment later. "Because I asked him to," I told her truthfully. "Sara," I said as I put my hands on her shoulders in a fatherly fashion. "I didn't like him groping you and grabbing your ass and boobs, right in front of everyone, so I told him to stop." "Oh," she said slowly, then kissed me fully on the lips and said. "Thanks Jim. I'm glad my daddy liked you." Rachael was haply playing with Tara's hair; I couldn't help but wish for the hundred thousandth time that Rachael Marie was there to see our daughter. At nearly one year old, Rachael was such a happy, energetic, beautiful little girl. Tara likewise gave me a kiss when I had ushered the last of our guests out and took my now sleeping child from her. The girls and I sat at the kitchen table and both girls burst into tears when I unwittingly took the same seat that Jim Mitchell always sat in. ---- The plans for his funeral were simple, albeit long. Reverent Bonham, the Pentecostal minister had obviously never heard the 'lips and ass' rule of public speaking. "Never let your lips outlast their ass." Sara and Tara both had a good giggle at that one and assured me that the good Reverend Bonham was well known for his long and spirited sermons. ---- Within a week of his death, I was ready to dig Jim Mitchell up and beat the crap out of him for leaving the responsibility of raising his two daughters to me. They were constantly on the phone, shrilly demanding that I tell the other twin this or that. At my office, one or the other would simply barge in or worse yet, both would be in my office arguing with each other and me. On the outside they were twenty years old, but on the inside they were barely twelve. Winton two weeks of his death, I knew without a doubt that Jim Mitchell and I weren't friends, and had never been friends. If we'd been friends, he would have left this responsibility to anyone else but me. And Deacon Jack was a true predator; he seemed to be at the Mitchell house constantly. I wondered what he did for a living; he was too young to be retired and dressed far too shabbily and his car was several years old so I knew he wasn't independently wealthy. "He's a writer, I think," Sara shrugged. Chapter 11 I was close to the breaking point. Rachael Nicole was turning one year old in four days so I had a birthday party to plan for. Her entire day care center was invited and I'd been assured that nearly all fourteen children and their parents would be at my house that Saturday. Tara had called me; Deacon Jack was groping Sara and trying to talk the two of them into investing in some 'sure-fire' business deal he had cooked up. In true The back and forth screaming and name-calling and accusations was getting to a fever pitch but when Sara slapped her sister and inadvertently hit Rachael in the process, I lost it. I grabbed the girl by a handful of her hair, pulled her to the couch and pulled her over my knees. My hand was sore and my arm weak by the time I finished. What flesh was visible around her far too skimpy bikini panties was a cherry red from my bear handed spanking. And her arousal was overwhelmingly evident. The crotch of her panties was soaked. If I had not been able to smell her excitement, I would have thought she'd urinated, so wet were her panties. Her already splotchy face was even splotchier with her crying. But when I pulled her up she smiled a mischievous smile and said, "Didn't hurt." I had to laugh at her sheer cheekiness. Her kiss was a little lingering, a little long. Then she apologized to her sister and fussed over Rachael and apologized to her as well. Both girls agreed to be at my house on Saturday to help me with the party and I left. ---- Jim Mitchell had been absolutely blind to anything his two angels did. He had been very quick to find fault with Rachael's swimwear, when his two daughters were practically nude in their own bikinis. Rachael had been happy and bubbly; he thought she was flighty and stupid. I wished he had been so quick to see that fault in his daughters. Maybe if he had warmed their Asses every now and then, they'd be a little better equipped to handle the real world. ---- Both girls were wearing shorts and bikini tops as we tramped around the back yard for the birthday party. I never noticed how many of the children had single mothers, but believe me; I knew it by the time they left. I am in no way arrogant enough to believe that I am sexy or hot, although Rachael always said I was. But I had six phone numbers given to me along with "call me, we must set up a 'play date' for Rachael and Jimmy, or Serena, or whatever their precious little brat's name was..." Most of these women were in there twenties or thirties. Tara and Sara helped clean up and seemed reluctant to leave, so I simply let them hang out. At least I wouldn't be getting shrill phone calls in a few hours. ---- "My butt's all black and blue," Sara suddenly accused as we sat at my small kitchen table, eating salad. Tara shot her sister a murderous look. "Well, if you would have acted your age," I said and looked up at her, "You wouldn't have gotten a spanking in the first place. "No, see, it's all black and blue," she declared and stood up. Her shorts dropped to the floor and she turned to show me her bony rear end. Her definition of 'black and blue' and my definition of 'black and blue' were completely different. There wasn't a mark to be seen anywhere. "Aw, poor baby," I mocked. "Would you like me to kiss it and make it all better?" "Would you?" she squeaked. Oblivious should have been my middle name. "God damn it!" Tara screamed at her sister. "He's mine!" "Nuh uh," Sara smugly said, still exposing her backside to me. "Should have made your move first." "Damn it," Tara burst into tears. "I'm the one who loves him, not you!" Like I said, 'Oblivious' should have been my middle name. I didn't hear any of the words, just the argument. So it was a complete shock to me when Tara tearfully clambered into my lap and hugged me fiercely. She was crying and babbling nonsense about loving me and always loving me, even though I was married to her best friend in the whole wide world. "Fine, big baby," Sara huffed and pulled her shorts up. When it finally sank in what was going on, I begged and pleaded with Tara to find someone her own age. I also pointed out that my wife, her best friend, hadn't even been dead six months; I wasn't going to date anyone for at least a year. I've got too soft of a heart; rather than tell her flat out that I had no interest in either her or her bony ass sister, I tried to be gentle and diplomatic about the whole thing. Chapter 12 Deacon Jack redoubled his efforts to separate Sara and Tara and their money. Their father had been a careful planner and had not splurged on any luxuries, so the girls, if they managed well, would never have to worry for anything. The house that they lived in had been pained off within ten years of his purchasing it and the car that they drove was an old but serviceable station wagon, also paid for. Jack Stanton didn't seem to understand that any expense over five hundred dollars had to be cleared by the holder of the girls' trust fund, and that was I. The only way the girls could get there half of the money was to turn twenty-five or get married. Jack Stanton was already married and it would be another four years and two months before the girls would be twenty-five. ---- "Tell him," Sara said as she and a very uncomfortable Jack stood in my office. I listened as Jack outlined a preposterous business plan that was so full of holes that it had absolutely no way of succeeding. "And how much of your money are you putting into this venture?" I finally interrupted. "Well, um, you see...." He hemmed and hawed. "Come on, Jack, give me a dollar amount," I snapped. "Ten dollars? Twenty dollars? Twenty thousand dollars?" "Well, see, all of my capital is tied up in..." he stammered. "Okay, fine, so that's zero," I cut him off. "And what's your cut of the profits, should there be any profits?" "Oh, well, see, there's andoriginator's fee,' and I thought that, you know, um, fifty percent would be like..." he said. Sara's face was truly enjoyable. She finally realized what the sleazebag was up to. She stormed out of my office; he slunk out after her. I learned from her that he'd followed her home and tried to gain entry, but she very firmly told him to go away and to stay away. ---- I winced as I saw Rachael's old pick up truck pull up in front of the house. I'd sold it to the twins for two reasons; one, they needed two cars, and two, I hated seeing it in the driveway. "Thank you, thank you, thank you," Tara bubbled as I answered my door. I know I should have pushed her away, should have told her to stop, but her arms were around my neck and her tongue in my mouth as she kissed me happily and lovingly. "Thank you so much for finally getting rid of Deacon Jack," she bubbled. "I've been telling Sara and telling her and telling her, but she just didn't want to believe me." And she was kissing me again. She felt good. It had been nearly a year since the last time that Rachael Marie and I had been able to make love. Again, I should have stopped her, should have pushed her away. But I didn't. We kissed some more and my hands had a mind of their own as they stroked her young flesh. ---- She was a virgin; the blood was testament to that. She was extremely inexperienced but took to learning with great zeal. She also kept repeating over and over how much she loved me. I felt extremely guilty and oddly hollow after I'd finished coming in her very tight pussy. Guilty or hollow or not, that didn't stop me from pressing my cock to her face and demanding a blowjob. She wasn't quite sure of how to do that, but learned very quickly and very happily bends to the task. Guilty or hollow or not, the next time Tara showed up at my doorstep (which was the next evening, as soon as I got home from work) she was again in my bed, getting filled with my mindless, heartless cock. We drifted off to sleep, her bony ass pressed tightly against me. She actually whooped with pleasure when I woke her up for more fun and games and again repeated how much she loved me. Chapter 13 I did the right thing; it was the only thing I could do when we discovered that Tara was pregnant. The ceremony itself was a fairly somber one with Sara as a smiling maid of honor and Tara's happiness quite evident. Mine, however, was not a face of happiness. I knew I didn't love her, but it was the right thing to do. I again was filled with resentment toward Jim Mitchell. It tore at my heart to hear Rachael call Tara 'Mommy.' That should have been for someone else. But what was done was done. Rachael had a Mommy and Tara was going to give her a brother or sister in a few months. ---- Marriage did have its benefits. My daughter didn't have to go to the day care anymore; Tara was a stay at home mom. I would come home to the smells of dinner every night. In the bedroom, she was insatiable. She would surf the Internet when Rachael lay down for a nap and wanted to try all the wild things she read about. We both enjoyed anal sex; I because it was such a tight feeling and it was so naughty, she because it hurt so well and was dirty and nasty. I drew the line at blood or urine or other bodily functions. But slapping her bony ass, or spraying her face with a load of my semen was fine with me. Marriage also had its pitfalls. I had to listen to her whine and complain about everything, had to feign interest in whatever she found interesting. I had to pretend to be sexually attracted to someone that just didn't turn me on at all. (I'd once crudely, yes, I admit it was crude, remarked to a friend "It's like trying to fuck a board.") She did cook, true, but her entire selection was limited to what came in boxes or cans or jars. The idea of cooking spaghetti sauce or vegetable soup from scratch was met with a blank look. She had the same terrible taste in television shows and movies as Rachael had possessed, so I had to sit through fairly insipid and plot less programming. Rachael Pt. 03 ---- But she was my wife and we were going to have a baby. Sara was a constant visitor and would often stay the night, sleeping on the couch downstairs. I actually hated that; Tara was normally loud and vocal about our lovemaking, but when Sara was there, she was absolutely ridiculous. Then the next morning, Sara would flaunt her bone-thin body, 'accidentally' flashing me her breasts or rear end or crotch. All of this with her sister right there, glaring hatefully. ---- Tara's pelvis was not wide enough to accommodate natural childbirth so James Robert Taylor Junior was born via cesarean section. For a brief moment, I thought I'd done the right thing. For a brief moment, I loved my wife. For a brief moment, Tara Taylor was a beautiful woman. ---- But that was a brief moment, and that brief moment was gone far too quickly. I hated feeling the way I did. Tara was constantly telling me how much she loved me, how happy I made her, how I was the most wonderful man in the world. She did anything she possibly could to try to make me happy, but deep down, I was miserable. Anna noticed that I was working later and later at the office and finally confronted me. "Jim, if you're not happy, for God's sake, do something about it," she said. "Who says I'm not happy?" I lied. "Jim, Jim, I've been working for you what? Ten years?" she asked. "You don't seem to realize it, but you would make a horrible poker player. I can read your face like a stop sign." Suddenly I realized what Rachael Ann Bentley Taylor, my first wife had meant when she said I was stifling her that she was suffocating. The idea of going home, even if Rachael Nicole and Jimmy were waiting for Daddy, filled me with weariness. "Okay, so what do I do?" I asked. "Hell, I don't know," Anna, sputtered. "But do something! Go get counseling! Have an affair, get a divorce, but do something before you put a gun in your mouth!" ---- Tara smiled so happily when I came in and Rachael shrieked "Daddy!" and Jimmy lay in his crib. It was the perfect home to come home to, except for the fact that I resented my wife, hated my wife. Chapter 14 Counseling was a fucking joke. The ass wipe that Reverent Bonham suggested to us just could not get past the age gap and spent the four times we were in his office, the four hours we wasted trying to talk the problems out were spent focused entirely on that one facet. I have no doubt that our age difference was a factor, but the thirty-year gap wasn't the only problem. ---- "I'm sorry," she said softly. Again, for a brief moment, I thought I might love her. She did feel good leaning against me, just leaning, no clinging or cloying. "I'm sorry too," I said. And I meant it. She was a wonderful girl; it wasn't her fault I didn't love her. The last of her boxes went into the back of the station wagon and Tara and Sara were again living under the same roof. I watched sadly as the station wagon pulled out of the driveway, Sara at the wheel, Tara looking over her shoulder at the house as they turned the corner. ---- Jimmy was a sickly and whiney baby and needed constant attention. Rachael was entering her 'terrible twos' stage and demanded constant attention. But despite the physical exhaustion, I was happy. A few days later, I received the mandatory court orders and legal notification of a pending divorce. The sadness and feeling of failure were overwhelming; I have no doubt that Tara did really love me, but sometimes love just isn't enough. Especially one-sided love. She must have received the same packet in the mail because I was barraged with a flood of crying, sniffling phone calls from her. She was the one that had contacted a lawyer and filed the petition; I guess seeing the black and white of it all gave her a dose of reality. For whatever reason, she didn't fight me for custody, didn't fight me for alimony, and didn't fight me for division of marital assets. Her lawyer, a harsh faced woman that glared contemptuously at me and Yancy showed up for the hearing, signed the papers that were presented to her, spat her replies to the judge, and then marched out of the courtroom. Neither Tara nor Sara were anywhere in sight. Chapter 15 I was in the grocery store the other day, picking up several jars of baby food and cans of Spaghettios when I saw an absolutely stunning red head and a bone thin red-head shopping together. The stunning redhead had about thirty pounds on the other, with nice curves to her physique. Her hair was cut a little shorter than the other's and her clothing was a little softer looking as well. She seemed to be focused on the shopping at hand, only mildly paying attention to the other red head, who kept up a constant chatter. The two of them glanced up the aisle I was on, just checking to see if there was anything they'd wanted on that aisle and made eye contact with me. The stunning red head was my ex-wife. The pained look she gave me cut into me, but I smiled and waved in greeting. She softened and waved back, but Sara snubbed me by turning her back to me. "Hi Jim," Tara said softly. "Hey Tara, you look absolutely great," I said sincerely. "Thank you," she smiled as I approached. "You look pretty good too. Lost some weight?" "Come on Tara," Sara spat. "Let's go." "Wait," Tara ordered. "Weight? No, lost more hair, that's about it. Rachael's second birthday was last month; I wished you'd have been there. Didn't you get the invitation?" I asked. "Oh, Jim, I don't know I just didn't know if I could, well, you know," she said, and for a brief moment, I saw that little spoiled, indecisive, flighty girl that I couldn't wait to get rid of. "And Jimmy's growing like a weed," I continued. The look that crossed her face was painful for me to see. "I'll bet he is," she said in almost a whisper. "His first birthday is next week, will you please come for that?" I said and prepared to push my cart to the next aisle. "You wouldn't mind?" she asked, putting her hand softly on my arm. "Mind? Tara, you're his mother," I reminded her. "If I could, I would insist that you be there. In fact, I'd really like it if you would stop by every now and then and see them." Her smile seemed to light up the whole building and for a brief moment I thought I might be in love with my ex-wife. The End of Rachael 3 Rachael Pt. 04 *Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual acts are at least eighteen years of age. * Chapter 1 I hated to say it, but those that were supposed to be helping her had screwed my ex-wife royally. Worse than that, I hated to be witness to it. We'd gone to her minister, looking for marriage counseling. The jackass he'd sent us to was just shy of totally incompetent. In fact, two different clients for malpractice were suing him. The divorce lawyer the minister had gotten for her was actually a bankruptcy lawyer and ours was only the fourth divorce she'd ever handled in her career. She didn't even want to know how to file for child visitation or custody. She'd actually told Tara not to bother with going to court; she'd handle everything. Tara hadn't asked for visitation or custody, assuming that the judge would just rule in my favor, as I was older than her. Her lawyer should have told her differently, and a more competent lawyer would have. The financial planner the minister had recommended was filing for personal bankruptcy, but was wisely using a different lawyer. I was so grateful I'd not relinquished the accounts to him when he barged into my office and shrilly demanded that I hand them over. I told him I'd received no communication from either Sara Mitchell or Tara Taylor authorizing me to release them and had no court documents identifying him as their new guardian. Until I received communication from Sara and Tara, or from the courts, he could go jump in the lake. The renovations that they'd started had stretched into the several thousands of dollars and were nowhere near completion; again, incompetent people the good Reverend Bonham had recommended. How much easier my life would have been had she simply used that brain of hers, rather than letting others tell her what to do. I would be able to wash my hands of her and her even more shrill, even more annoying twin sister. But I could not in good conscience turn my back on my ex-wife or her sister. Even if she had not been my ex-wife, she had been my deceased wife's best friend. ---- "Get out," I very firmly told the contractor. "Your work here is finished. Sara would not look at me; she glared with undisguised hostility when I knocked at the door, but let me in. Tara softly held onto my arm and quietly discussed what they had requested of the contractor and what a disaster it had all been. "How'd you even know?" Sara bitterly spat at me. I think if she thought she could get away with it, she would have physically spat at me. "I pay your bills," I reminded her. When a simple back patio and deck went from thirty five hundred to seventeen thousand, I decided I better take a look." The contractor that had built my back deck and patio came out, took some notes did a few sketches and Tara decided on the plan for the house. Sara would not even look at the sketches. "And you're sure you can do all of this for seven thousand?" she asked for the fiftieth time. "Ma'am, it's right here in black and white," he smiled. "If it costs seven thousand and five dollars, guess who pays the five dollars? Me." "Thank you so much, Jim," Tara said as I prepared to leave. "Tara, believe it or not, I do love you," I said. "All I ever want is what's best for you and for Sara." "Don't worry about me!" Sara shrilly screamed from the front porch. Tara and I shared a smile at how immature her twin sister was being. Chapter 2 Even if our son hadn't been planned, he was the light of my life, as was my daughter, Rachael Nicole. Rachael Marie, my wife had been a best friend with Sara and Tara Mitchell. The two bone thin red heads and my wife had run around our house, cavorted in our back yard, swam in our pool. The twins' father, Jim Mitchell, came to me a few weeks after Rachael Marie Taylor, age twenty one, had been laid to rest, victim to ovarian cancer. Over ham and Swiss sandwiches, he revealed that he had an inoperable brain tumor and asked if I would 'keep an eye on the twins for him,' even though they were both twenty, nearly twenty-one years old. Because they had been my wife's friends and she had loved them with all of her heart, I agreed. Four months after his death, Tara and I had made love and produced jams Robert Taylor Junior. I did the right thing and married her, even though I did not love her. I did not find her very attractive; she was five foot eight and weighed ninety-three pounds. Pregnancy did put a few pounds on her, but that was quickly lost as soon as Jimmy was born. Her pasty white skin was blotched and splotched with innumerable freckles, her carrot orange hair hung limply down to her nonexistent ass. I often had to imagine I was with another woman, instead of a shrill, whining, immature brat, in order to get it up. The few times I failed, I would laugh it off as 'just a sign of my age.' I was fifty when she and I married. ---- But it had been great to see her at our son's first birthday party. And Rachael Nicole, bless her loving heart, still thought that Tara was her mother. She'd only been seven months old when Rachael Marie died. The two year old happily greeted 'Mommy' and prattle and babbled in her two-year-old way while Tara shed a few tears of happiness. She was wearing make-up, very tastefully done, and really looked great. Jimmy sat in his high chair and a sullen Sara brightened slightly and played with him. "Nice," I commented and lightly tugged the belly button ring Tara sported. "Thanks," she giggled lightly. "Hurt like the dickens." "You look good," I said as we moved to the back yard to make sure that all the party gear was ready to go. (I'd laid the boards across the in ground pool and that was covered by a tarp. There was a movable barricade around the perimeter of the pool. If anyone were going to fall in, they'd really have to work at falling in.) "Good enough to eat?" Tara asked and smiled playfully. I had to watch it; I had to guard myself, or I would wind up caring for, desiring my ex-wife. Despite wanting to put up a wall, I smiled back. I did remember the oral sex we'd both enjoyed. Her clitoris was thin, like all of her, and hung down like a punching bag. The first time I'd gone down on her, she'd locked those skinny legs around my head and damned near suffocated me. But I'd loved it, and she'd loved it. The few times I couldn't get it up, eating her pussy would suffice just fine for her. "Good enough to eat," I agreed and lightly swatted her rear end, which looked good in her shorts. Her thirty two B breasts were covered by a man's button up shirt that was simply knotted in front, leaving her pale belly bare, and showing off her belly button ring. When we'd split up, Tara had slipped into a severe depression. The good Reverend Bonham had glibly suggested prayer but she turned to food instead. The feelings of failure were stuffed down along with a Boston cream pie. The feelings of inadequacy were swallowed, along with a couple of Big Macs. A few dozen doughnuts quickly covered any anger. On anyone else, the thirty pounds would have been disastrous, but on her, it looked great. ---- I'd invited all of the children from the Day Care Center that Rachael and Jimmy went to and had been assured by Miss Decker that the majority of them would be there. "Never known them to pass up a free meal," she laughed. If Rachael's second birthday party was any indication, she was right. The guests began to arrive and Sara and Rachael were greeting them and guiding them to the back yard. For that brief moment in time, Sara forgot that she hated me and was mad at me. She was smiling and laughing and having a good time. Tara stayed in the back yard with me and helped with Jimmy and the food and graciously interacting with the other moms. Other than myself, there were only two other men. Marc was the proud adoptive father of Kyle, and very obviously gay. Rupert was the father of Austin and I did not like him from the moment he and his girlfriend, Melanie, walked in. The first thing Rupert did was asked where the beer was. "Uh, it's a children's party," I reminded him. I also checked my watch; it wasn't even ten thirty yet. The second thing that he did that I didn't like was make fun of Melanie. She was a short girl of about twenty-one or so, with short blond hair and a cute round face. Pretty much all of her was round. I would guess she was about five feet two and at least twenty-five pounds overweight. Well, any mother will tell you, having a baby puts a few extra pounds on you, and taking it off ain't as easy as putting it on. She sure didn't need him reminding her that she'd put on a few pounds and certainly didn't need him doing it in front of total strangers. The third thing he did was comment on my 'bitching bad ass' restored 1965 Ford Mustang. The only way he would have seen it is if he'd gone into my garage and he had no reason to be in my garage. "Fucking fruit loop," he sneered at me. "That's your opinion," I lightly said. At my age, I really could care less what some punk ass twenty something thinks of me. Any posturing, any bravado, any machismo had long ago been replaced by a comfort and security in knowing who I am and what I am. ---- Marc helped me with the barbequing and I was glad for that. Rachael and Austin were obviously good friends and they ran around playing with each other. I relished being able to watch her laugh and shriek and be a little girl. I felt a presence next to me and looked over at Melanie. She smiled as she watched Austin chasing after my daughter and I was struck at how cute her smile was. "I really do not like him," Sara hissed into my left ear. "Who?" I hissed back. Obviously something had her pretty pissed off for her to forget that she wasn't talking to me. "That guy, Reuben or whatever," she hissed. "Ass hole just tried to hit on me; with his wife here and everything." "Girlfriend," Melanie corrected and shot an ugly look at Rupert. "Oh, shit!" Sara squeaked, blushed a hundred shades of red and scampered off. I observed Rupert trying, unsuccessfully, to hit on every woman there, even the ones that bore wedding rings. With a heavy lurch, I realized that Tara was wearing her wedding ring and the engagement ring that I'd given her. ---- Melanie was very gracious as she thanked me for inviting her and Austin to the party. I noticed, despite all of his muscle flexing, it was Melanie that held the sleeping boy. "You are most welcome," I smiled and was rewarded with another one of her cute smiles. "Obviously, Austin and Rachael enjoy playing together; we ought to do a play date sometimes." "Yeah, yeah, hey dude, trade you," Rupert cut in. "Fat ass here for that bitching ass fucking Mustang." "You'd be getting the short end of that trade," I coldly said. Melanie glared daggers at him. "Why? Mother fucker don't run?" he asked. "Runs as sweet as it did the day it rolled off the assembly line," I smiled. I turned my attention back to Melanie. "Still be getting the bad end of that deal, Pleasure to meet you, 'Bye, Austin." "You are such a charmer," Tara giggled lightly as I closed the door. "What?" I smiled. "You'd be getting the short end of that deal," she mocked my deep voice. "We ought to do a play date sometimes." "Shut up," I smiled and slapped her on her cute rear end as I walked past her. "Hey, by the way, what's with the wedding ring?" "Oh, um, well, when I gained all that weight, I couldn't get the rings off," she lied. Chapter 3 I saw Melanie a few days later as I dropped Rachael and Jimmy off at the Day Care Center. She smiled a winning smile and waved, as she got into a battered looking Oldsmobile. It sounded horrible as she started it, it died a few times, and then she gunned it and roared off. ---- That afternoon, I wasn't thinking of Melanie or her sexy body or her cute smile. I'd just run off a shoddy and most likely dishonest contractor and had a reputable contractor bid on the work to be done. I handed my ex-wife the visitation papers and the business card of the lawyer I'd hired for her. "What's this?" she asked. "You're suing me," I smiled. "Suing me for joint custody of our son and visitation rights with Rachael, since she believes that you're her Mommy." "You know, Rachael was right," Tara said and hugged me again. "You really are the most wonderful man in the world." "No, I'm not," I said as I returned her hug. "Just trying to do what's right. But it's nice to hear you say that." ---- I saw Melanie exiting the Day Care Center the next morning and managed to have a few words with her and reiterate my desire for Rachael and Austin to get together and play. "I'd be happy to drop Rachael off, or better yet, why not come on over and we'll swim?" I asked. "Sure!" she happily agreed and we agreed on Saturday. ---- Rachael had inherited from her birth mother a real impatient streak; I had to threaten her with 'Time Out' if she didn't stop begging to get in the pool before Austin arrived. Finally, I saw the battered Oldsmobile pull up to the house and breathed a sigh of relief. Rupert wasn't with them. "Still sleeping it off," Melanie laughed when I asked about Rupert. I unobtrusively pulled my towel in front of my surging erection. She really had a cute smile and a sexy body, even if it was a few pounds overweight. Rachael led the way to the back yard. I carried Jimmy, then tired of him struggling and put him down to totter and wobble his way to the pool. "Wow, she really knows her stuff," Melanie said as Rachael jumped in and began to swim. The life vest she wore really wasn't necessary, but I felt better if she had one on. Austin fussed about having one, but I firmly told him that it was the rules. Jimmy also fussed, but Jimmy was a fussy baby. I didn't feel funny about shrugging out of my tee shirt and exposing my fifty one year old body; I swam regularly, watched my diet and kept active. I slipped into the cool water with Jimmy and he and I splashed around. I was glad that the sunlight was blinding as it reflected off of the pool water. Melanie's swimsuit had most likely been purchased before she had Austin. Her breasts threatened to spill out or pop the top completely off and the bottom barely contained the two fleshy globes of her ass. It was obvious that she'd had to very conscientiously trim, or completely remove her pubic hair as the front was stretched to the breaking point over her mound and had very little material to cover her pussy from view. My erection was throbbing by the time she carefully slipped into the cool water. "Oh! This is heaven!" she cooed and smiled. "I'll bet you and Tara spend a lot of time out here!" "Used to," I shrugged and smiled back. "We're divorced." "What? Really?" she asked, mouth open in surprise. "But, when? I mean, she was here at the birthday party, you two seemed like, really?" "She's a wonderful woman," I said. "She and I are adults, we've agreed to be adults about the whole thing." ---- Rachael and Austin had worn themselves out and Jimmy was ready for a nap too. I carried my two squirming, fussy, cranky kids in and Melanie was right behind me with her squirming, fussy kid. Jimmy was asleep before I finished changing his diaper and laid him in his crib. Austin and Rachael were put side by side in her bed and were soon asleep as well. Melanie followed me downstairs. She and I chatted as I quickly lined up all the lunch items that I'd heat up as soon as they woke from their naps. I half wished she'd put her clothes back on, and was half happy that she still wore the ridiculously skimpy bathing suit. ---- "So, if you don't mind me asking, since it's obvious y'all still love each other, why'd you get a divorce?" she blurted out. "Sometimes, love isn't enough," I smiled sadly. I was a little surprised by Melanie's comment; I knew it was obvious that Tara was still in love with me, but didn't think I displayed any love of my own. "I mean, she's still wearing her rings, that's why I thought y'all were still together," Melanie went on. "Nope, divorced." I said sadly and sat down. "Oh, hey, would you like some coffee or something?" "Coffee would be great," she agreed She insisted on fixing her own cup and I knew, it would be just my luck, that Rachael or Jimmy would wake up at that precise moment. My erection was quite evident as I watched her plump ass jostle and jiggle as she very vigorously stirred sugar into her mug, then just as vigorously added the creamer. I jammed myself under the kitchen table as she turned and walked to the table, carrying her cup of coffee. "Yeah, Rupert's always on me about putting sugar in my coffee, says I ought to use that sweet n' low crap," she was saying as I watched her breasts strain in her too snug top. "But he don't have to drink that crap, stuff tastes terrible." "I'd put more than Sweet N' Low in his coffee," I muttered and she giggled at the implication. Sure enough, I heard the plaintive wail of Jimmy waking up in a dark room and wanting his daddy. My erection was not just tenting my shorts; it was throbbing and drooling as I stared at Melanie's hard nipples. She could blame the air conditioning for the obvious bumps in her swimsuit. I couldn't. His crying grew in intensity and I had no choice but to get to my feet, walk around the table, and through the door, all with my erection right in Melanie's face. And of course, as soon as my feet touched the bottom step, he ceased his crying. "Was, um, was that, was that for me?" Melanie blushed and stammered, never making eye contact with me when I returned, erection finally tucked away. "Was what for you?" I asked, matching her blush. "That, um, that Mister Stiffy," she blushed even deeper. "Yes, I'm afraid so," I said, averting my eyes. "I am so sorry, please don't be angry, it's just, well, hell, you're a very sexy young lady and..." "I'm what?" she asked, disbelieving. "You are a sexy young lady, dressed in a skimpy bathing suit, and I got an erection staring at you," I said, setting my jaw firmly. There was a long moment of silence, and when I looked back up, Melanie was smiling her dazzling smile, still blushing, but smiling all the same. ---- Lunch was served, then Austin and Melanie left and I couldn't help but wonder what Rupert would think if he found out that I'd just finished making love to his girlfriend. I'd insisted on using a condom for three reasons, even though Melanie complained lightly. One, I didn't trust Rupert and didn't want to pick up any diseases he might have given Melanie. Monogamy wasn't high on his list of priorities, as I'd observed at Jimmy's birthday party. Two, I didn't want any pregnancies; I was raising two children already and didn't want to add a third just yet. Melanie said she was on the pill, but nothing is 100 percent foolproof. And third, and Melanie had to agree with me, it's less messy. I was so grateful for that condom; without it I would have sprayed Melanie with my load the moment her bikini bottom hit the kitchen floor. Her pussy was shaved bare, a look I've always found extremely sexy. But with a condom dulling the sensation; well, let's just say I managed to last a little bit longer than three strokes. Chapter 4 Tara and I smiled at h other as we met up on the courthouse steps. She really had a stunning smile; I wonder why I never noticed that before. Even Sara was coolly civil to me. Yancy, my lawyer and personal friend, surprised me by slapping me playfully on the rump. "Hey, hey, enough of that," he said. "Remember? She's the bad guy, the one who's suing you." We had to laugh at that; I was the one paying for both lawyers and the civil proceedings. Rachael Pt. 04 Judge Walker smiled as Tara and I shared responsibilities between the two children. He commented on how normally there was so much animosity and bitterness in these cases, he usually has to ask that the children be removed from the room so they wouldn't be exposed to the whole nasty ordeal Tara answered a few questions, I answered a few questions, papers were signed, and I kissed Tara lightly before leaving to grab a cup of coffee with Yancy. ---- "So, Jim, let me ask you something," Yancy asked as we sipped our overpriced coffee. "Uh huh," I answered, not really listening to him. I was focused on the cute girl working behind the counter. She had a really cute smile, and blushed hotly when she looked up and recognized me. "Why'd you two ever get a divorce?" he asked and followed my line of vision. "Oh, Jesus, Jim, do you think she's even old enough?" "Twenty four, actually, I replied and smiled as she spoke with another female who looked in my direction, nodded her head yes and took Melanie's place behind the counter. "So, how'd it go?" she asked, playfully stepping on the toes of my shoes. She knows, as anal as I am, that I REALLY hates that sort of thing. She smiled, knowing that I'd have the shoes back to a high polish before the end of the day; I wouldn't be able to put them into the closet until they were cleaned up. She squealed in laughter as I pinched her rump in retaliation for stepping on my shoes. "Went great," I smiled. "Both sides got what they wanted, nobody got hurt, everybody's happy." "Yeah, well, Rupert's making all kind of noise, like he's going to sue for full custody and shit," Melanie said, biting on her lower lip. "Well, lucky for you, I know a blood-thirsty lawyer, won't stop until there's not a scrap of meat left on the bones," I said and nodded my head toward Yancy. "Give me a call," Yancy said and handed her his business card. "I get off at five," she said looking at me, and, damn it, stepping on my shoes again. "And I don't have the kids, Tara's got them," I smiled. "What'd you have in mind?" "You tell me," she smiled, looking directly at my crotch. "Oh, you know how it is with us old farts," I smiled. "Dinner, maybe a movie, then we need to go to bed, you know?" "Oh, well, at least I'll get fed," she giggled, then kissed me quickly, waved over her shoulder and got behind the counter again. "I would have loved to see you in high school," Yancy said and sipped his coffee. "Why's that?" I asked, using a napkin to clean up my shoes. I heard Melanie's musical little laugh and shook my head. I'd be sure to give her a 'spanking' for that. "I'll bet you were the Horn Dog of the whole fucking school," he smiled. "I'll bet you were THE MAN." "Actually, Yancy, I didn't even have a date until I was in my first year of college," I smiled. "Worse yet, I married the very first girl I ever dated." Chapter 5 Austin was slightly put off that Rachael was with her Mommy, but we easily distracted him with one of Rachael's movies and Melanie and I discretely made out while he watched 'The Little Mermaid.' Dinner was a quick little meal, then it was back to the couch for a quick video game (which I let him win by a landslide (, and then off to bed for Austin. Then off to bed for Mommy and Mr. Jim. ---- She liked the fact that I liked to go down on her and loved the fact at I wasn't afraid to put my tongue on her spicy anus either. I liked the fact that she liked to have a finger or two jammed into her tight anus while she bounced on my cock. She balked at anal sex, though, even though she had the perfect ass for it. She also enjoyed getting my cock wet with her saliva, then having me slide in between her thirty six D breasts until I blew a load onto her face, neck, and chest. "Best face cream in the world," she laughed as she rubbed into her skin. Pajamas were a thing of the past; Melanie slept nude. She liked to tease me about my snoring, a fact I was already aware of; both Rachael my wife and Tara had complained lightly about it. Melanie didn't have any room to talk, though; her snoring was of monstrous proportion. ---- I will never forget the crushing heaviness that I felt the next morning when an elated Tara walked in, our children in hand, and saw Melanie in one of the old robes I kept around. The beautiful smile was wiped from her face and her beautiful brown eyes filled with tears. She knelt down, kissed both of the children and told them bye-bye and turned to leave. I wonder why I never noticed her beautiful eyes before. "Don't," Melanie said and grabbed Tara's hand. Melanie pulled Tara to the couch and sat quietly talking with the sobbing girl while I hurriedly got Jimmy and Rachael ready for the Day Care Center. Rachael and Austin chattered happily while Jimmy kept whining for his mommy. "I'll take them to the Day Care," a composed Tara said to me. "Thanks, Melanie." ---- "You are one of the stupidest men in the world, you know that?" Melanie said as she kissed me deeply. "Thanks, you really know how to butter me up," I joked. "You have the one thing any man would kill to have, and you're willing to just throw it away. That woman adores you and would do anything, anything you ever asked of her, but you're too fucking stupid to see that," she went on. "What say we skip the foreplay?" I said. "Jim, it's been great, I really loved being with you," she said and began shoving her few clothes and other assorted items into a tote bag. "But...?" I said, as she pulled on her coffee shop uniform. "Jim, I like you, love being with you. No other man has ever made me feel so sexy, so beautiful, but you know what? I'll never love you, not the way Tara does," she said and kissed me again, grabbed Austin, and left. Chapter 6 "You asked me, on Jimmy's birthday, why I still had my wedding rings on," Tara said as we sat on the recently finished deck, our children playing on the new swing set. "I remember," I said and smiled as Sara playfully flipped me the bird behind her back. "Jim, I had never felt as complete as I did when I was your wife. When you finally came to me and said you weren't happy, I thought I was going to die," she said and flipped the bird back to her twin. "Believe me, it hurt me to have to say those words," I admitted and threw a breath mint at Sara, who yelped when it struck her bony backside. I always have peppermints or breath mints in my pockets. You never know when you're going to need them. "And I guess I never stopped hoping that you'd somehow change your mind, that you'd want me back again," she said and began to pull at the rings. "What are you doing?" I asked her. She stopped and looked at me, pain raw and evident in her eyes. "Taking them off," she said, her voice quivering and the tears beginning to pool up in her eyes. "I realized this morning, you know, when I saw you with Melanie, it was time to let go of that little fantasy." "I really wish you wouldn't," I admitted. : Please, Jim, please don't play with me," she said and put her face into her hands and began to sob. "I have never ever been in love as much as I am with you, losing you just about killed me and..." Even with the thirty extra pounds she'd put on, picking her up was as easy as picking up a feather. Sara fussed and sulked, but agreed to watch the children for us. The car ride to my house...I need to stop thinking of it as 'my house,' it's 'our house.' The car ride to our house was a quiet one, and for the first time that I can remember, I was sorry my car was a standard transmission. I wanted to hold Tara's hand, but had to shift through the gears. ---- The moment we were in our bedroom, we both got a little shy and nervous, even though we'd seen each other naked before. I got a sudden inspiration and lighted several candles and turned off the harsh overhead light. (A nude, freckled red head is a beautiful sight in flickering candle light. Her Thirty-two B breasts are dusted with a light sprinkling of freckles and capped with small, pale pink nipples. Even if they are small, they are hypersensitive and she squeals whenever they are pinched or sucked. Her belly has a sexy little belly button, which is even sexier with the belly button ring she' recently acquired. The nicest surprise is when she drops her skirt and panties to the floor, though. She shaves her pussy bald.) "I remember how much you like this," she whispered and got on her knees and, laying her shoulders to the bed, reached behind her and pulled her ass cheeks apart for me. "And I remember how much you like this," I said and licked up and down her drooling slit until I located her clitoris. After I'd gnawed on her clitoris for two orgasms, I got to my knees behind her and slid deeply into her bald pussy. She was always a quick trigger and I was grateful for that because no sooner had I entered her than I was spurting heavily. ---- "I love you so much, Jim," Tara murmured, her head on my chest. I realized that I'd really missed this. Melanie was a great fuck, but that's all she was. Intimacy and affection were short-lived; it always led to more fucking. If fucking wasn't accessible, then she was ready to either watch television, or go to sleep. I kissed the top of her head and squeezed her tightly. "Tara, I love you too," I said. "Thank you for still being here even though it took me a while to come to my senses." Chapter 7 Judge Walker jokingly said he was getting tired of seeing me in his courtroom but shook my hand and Tara's hand and performed the simple ceremony. Melanie and Yancy were the witnesses and Yancy did double duty by 'giving the bride away.' Sara earned no brownie points with Melanie by flirting openly with Yancy and Yancy didn't help Melanie's mood by openly enjoying Sara's attention. ---- Rachael's third birthday party was a lot of fun with a clown and a portable carousel. Again, most of the children and their parents from the Day Care Center showed up. Marc and his lover Jonas brought Kyle and again Marc helped out with the barbequing. Sara didn't earn any brownie points with him by flirting with Jonas, until Tara pulled her aside and pointed out that Jonas and Marc were together, were gay. The look on Sara's face was priceless. Yancy fussed over Austin and fussed over a very pregnant Melanie. That's why he is such a great lawyer, he is so damned fussy. Marc needled me a little by pointing out that Tara was close to delivering twins. "You do know what causes that?" he asked teasingly. "Yeah, something in the air," I joked back. "Something in he air?" he asked, puzzled. "Yeah, her feet," I said and he giggled at my naughtiness. ---- Melanie and Tara are the closest of friends and are more than happy to leave Yancy and I in charge of the kids while they run off to get manicures and pedicures or whatever their little hearts desire. Sara, according to Melanie, has to tag along with them, because she is 'not allowed within five hundred yards of Yancy unless Melanie is there.' Really, that's just Melanie's way of telling Sara she likes her and wants her to join them. ---- Tara loves me as completely as any woman ever loved any man. I almost lost that because I foolishly resented her. It wasn't her fault that Rachael had died; she didn't give Rachael cancer, had cried real tears of sadness and loss at Rachael's funeral. She had loved Rachael too. ---- I still stop by Rachael's grave once a week to put fresh flowers in the little urn attached to her headstone. I tell her how I still miss her even if I am with someone else, how her daughter is growing, how the pecan tree is growing. She'd planted the tree in our front yard a month before we found out she was sick because she remembered having pecan pies baked fresh with the pecans she'd picked when she was a little girl. The End.