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The Marine & The Beauty Queen Ch. 01

By: OldSarge69



If you are looking for a story filled with sex, then you are probably in the wrong place. I don't write sex stories. I (hopefully) write interesting stories that contain sex. It has been said that women need a reason to have sex, while men just need a place. I disagree with that. I think that men and women need to have a reason to have sex and that if they care for each other, then the sex will be even better. All the participants are at least 18.






I have always heard there are three kinds of people in the world: Those who make things happen, those who watch things happen and those who wonder what happened.

I had always considered myself the first kind of guy.

At least, that is, until I forgot some papers and had to return home to pick them up one morning.

That is when I saw my wife, Susan, on her knees giving a blow-job to another guy and saw his balls bouncing off her chin as he thrust himself in and out of her throat.

Then I kind of lost track of the proper order of events.

At first, I think I was wondering just what was happening, if it was real or not, then I just watched what was happening.

And all the time I was thinking about how much I had sacrificed over the past few years, trying to make her late Father's business into one of the most successful in the state. Working seven days a week, 14, 16 or 18 hours a day, just trying to make Susan proud of me.

In fact, those papers I had forgotten? Well, I had been working on them until nearly 2 am, gotten about three hours sleep, then left to go to work.

I kept thinking this is the only woman I have ever loved, and I had thought she loved me just as much, but now – NOW – now I didn't know what to think.

When did Susan stop loving me?

When did she stop caring?

When did Susan start having affairs?

Finally, I made something happen.

Unfortunately, the something that I made happen landed me in jail.

My attorney later told me that what I should have done was grab a gun and shoot the little scrawny son-of-a-bitch whose balls were bouncing off Susan's chin.

"There ain't a jury in Texas that would convict you of anything," he opined.

I consider myself a very peaceable man, and have never laid a hand on a woman in my life, but looking back, I have to admit there are times I almost wish I had kicked her in the jaw. From what I could see, he didn't have much to start with, and that would have certainly taken care of the little he did have.

At the very least, it might have made me feel a little better.

As it was, I grabbed the jerk by one arm and the back of his neck, marched him into the living room and threw him though a large plate glass window. 

All the while Susan was screaming, "Don't hurt him, don't hurt him!" 

Somehow I don't think she was talking to the other guy.

Amazingly, he wasn't seriously injured – just a lot of little nicks and scratches.

He immediately started hollering for help and my wife was still screaming at me.

So . . . I stepped through what was left of the plate glass window . . .

. . . and broke his nose

. . . and knocked out a few teeth

. . . and broke his jaw

. . . and a few ribs

. . . then kicked him in the same set of balls that my soon-to-be ex-wife had been trying to wear as a chin ornament.

It was about that time that the police arrived.

They had a naked man in my front yard and a naked woman standing on the porch.

Yet they arrested me for some reason, even though I explained that this was MY house, that was MY wife and the naked guy was the scum who was checking her tonsils with his dick.

Damn cops.

My attorney tried to explain it to me.

"If you had just shot both of them, or at least the guy," he began, "they probably wouldn't even have taken you in for questioning. Just taken your statement on the spot, and characterized it as justifiable homicide, a crime of passion.

"However, beating the crap out of the pastor of the largest Baptist Church in town, and one of the largest in the state . . . well that was just a little too much. Especially since both arresting officers attend that church."

Yes, the Reverend William "Billy" Thornton, son of the former governor of Texas, and pastor of the First Baptist Church of Thornton, Texas was the man who was trying to polish the head of his dick in my wife's throat. I'm not sure if his pathetic dick was even long enough to have reached her throat.

And yes, in case you are wondering, the town is named after some of his ancestors.

As I mentioned, his now-deceased father had been the governor of Texas at one time. His father's brother had been a United States Senator from Texas.

The only good news – from my point of view – was that powerful people, and powerful families, also tend to pick up powerful enemies. Such as the judge who set my bail at only $500.

Of course it didn't hurt that I was a well-respected local businessman, and member of most of the clubs in the town and county. And it probably helped that I was a disabled veteran and had received a Silver Star and Purple Heart while serving in Iraq.

The fact of the matter is, I only spent about two hours in jail before my attorney arranged my bail.

I suppose that at some point I need to introduce myself.

My name is Dennis Osborne.

I had spent two years attending the local junior college in my hometown in North Carolina, earning an associate degree in business administration before enlisting in the Marine Corps. 

Following basic training at Paris Island, S.C., I attended Advanced Infantry Training in Camp Lejeune, N.C., then followed that up by attending the 12-week Marine Armor Crew Course in Fort Knox, Ky., where I learned almost everything there was to know about tanks, from driving, loading, firing and basic maintenance.

Next came a tour of duty in Iraq driving a 40-ton Abrams tank. While in Iraq, I continued my education, taking online courses, and earning additional credits towards a bachelor's degree in business administration.

I mentioned that I earned a Silver Star in Iraq, along with a Purple Heart. I was actually a little embarrassed about the Purple Heart. 

Okay, a LOT embarrassed about the Purple Heart. 

There really isn't a nice way of saying this, but one day some insurgents fired a rocket propelled grenade into our compound and I got hit by a piece of shrapnel. 

In the ass.

I didn't even know it at first. In fact it wasn't until one of my buddies mentioned that it looked like I had some blood on the back of my pants that I reached around and found a small hole in my military utility uniform (called fatigues in the Army), and a small trickle of blood. 

I reported to sick bay and they prepped me for "surgery." I dropped my pants, and 30 seconds later they removed a tiny little fragment of metal from my butt. The metal was about one-third inch square.

They sprayed some antiseptic on it and covered it with a band-aide, then gave me a tetanus shot. The shot hurt worse than the wound.

To say that I took a lot of ribbing from my buddies would be something of an understatement.

Then one day about a month later we were all ordered to report for what we thought would just be a normal inspection. Turns out, in front of my whole platoon I was presented with the Purple Heart for getting wounded in the butt.

The following two months were pure hell. 

I heard every possible joke, every comment, every . . . well . . . everything about my "condition." Every single day . . . EVERY SINGLE DAY . . . as soon as I climbed into my tank, there would be a pillow on my seat. A very fluffy pillow.

The ribbing didn't stop until our compound was attacked one night. The Marine Corps prides itself on the fact that no matter what your MOS (Military Occupational Specialty) is, at heart every Marine is a rifleman.

During the attack by a much larger force, I grabbed my M-16 and, with the help of my best friend, managed to take out a number of enemy combatants, allowing the members of my platoon to safely withdraw until they could organize a counterattack. 

Unfortunately, my best friend was killed in the attack.

After I was awarded the Silver Star, the ribbing pretty much died out.

But every day there was STILL a damn pillow on my seat!

As far as the disabled veteran part, well that actually occurred stateside, after I returned from Iraq. 

While attending a joint military exercise at the massive Army base at Fort Hood, Texas, I was riding in a military vehicle that blew a tire. The driver lost control, flipped the truck and I pretty much shattered my knee. Two of my buddies were killed in the crash.

A couple of operations later I could walk again, but will always have a limp and running, and climbing into and out of tanks was not just difficult, but virtually impossible.

The Marine Corps offered, and I finally accepted, a 30 percent disability.

One of the reasons I accepted the Marine's offer of a disability was a young lady I met in Texas. From Fort Hood, I was airlifted to the Naval Air Station in Corpus Christi, Texas for surgery on my knee.

There is a lot of (usually) good-natured inter-service squabbling between the Marine Corps and the Navy, but I will say this: The Navy is the best taxi-service in the world. They take Marines where we need to go, feed us, get the hell out of the way when there is actually fighting involved, take us back home, and patch us up when we are injured!

Rather than subject me to a long ambulance ride, the Navy actually sent an airplane to Fort Hood, to pick me up and fly me to Corpus Christi. Go Navy!

When I woke up in the recovery room on Sunday morning, following my first surgery, I thought I must have died and gone to heaven because I was looking at an absolute angel.

Her name, I later found out, was Susan Williams and she was a volunteer at the hospital while attending Texas A&M University at Corpus Christi, where she was pursuing a nursing degree.

Susan was easily the most beautiful woman I had ever met, and when I learned she had been a runner-up in the Miss Texas Beauty Pageant, I was not surprised.

Mere words really cannot describe Susan.

Oh, yes, you can say she was tall (5 feet, 9 inches), slender (120 pounds), long jet black hair, impossibly long legs, wonderful, compact figure (34-23-34) but that doesn't really tell you much.

How do you describe eyes so blue they almost defied description? When I looked into her eyes the first time, I almost felt myself falling forward – and I was lying flat on my back in a hospital bed.

Jet black hair tells you the hair color, but it doesn't tell you how her hair shined and caught the slightest breeze, whispering around her face until it was almost impossible not to reach out and gently push a few errant strands back into place.

The most perfect white teeth I have ever seen, and lips that are so beautiful it seems almost to profane them by applying lipstick.

A smile that can take the breath away of anyone, and dimples that are impossibly cute.

And a very slightly crooked nose that actually enhanced her beauty, rather than take away from it. It was obvious that at some time in the past, she had broken her nose and it had not been set correctly.

To say that I was smitten would be like saying that Mount Everest is a fairly large hill.

My first words to her, before I knew her name or anything was: "Are . . . are you an angel?"

And that wasn't a feeble attempt at a pickup line. I seriously thought I must have died, and woke up in heaven.

"No," she laughed, "just a poor nursing aide."

"If you are only a poor nursing aide, then what do the nurses look like here?" I asked, and yes, that was a slight attempt at a pickup line.

This time she laughed even harder, then quipped with a huge smile: "Well, Debra is the head nurse and she is about two or three inches shorter than me and weighs about 200 pounds. Would you like me to get her for you?"

I think I told her that wouldn't be necessary, but I was still very groggy from the anesthetic they had used to put me to sleep, and apparently I immediately dozed back off.

When I woke up several hours later I was in a different room, but this angel was still there.

"Are . . . are you an angel?" I again asked, and she laughed and reminded me that I had already asked that question once.

I then remembered waking up earlier for a few minutes, and I introduced myself and she introduced herself and we shook hands – and continued to hold hands for several minutes.

I think I dozed off for a few minutes, but when I woke up again Susan was still holding my hand.

She explained that she was a nursing aide, while attending college, and hoped to get into nursing full-time after college.

To be honest, I let her do most of the talking.

Her Texas drawl was truly beautiful – just like she was. Plus I was still pretty groggy, and would doze off, then wake up, and doze off again.

A few hours later, a nurse brought me some food and Susan helped me eat. In fact, she actually pretty much fed me since I was still a little groggy. 

After eating, Susan told me I needed to get some sleep, but promised she would check on me the next day (Monday) after her college classes had ended.

At almost 1 pm exactly (1300 hours military time) Susan walked back into my hospital room.

To tell you the truth, I had been wondering if I had dreamed about our meeting the day before. Was it really possible for someone to be that beautiful?

As soon as Susan entered the room, I realized that not only was it possible, but if anything she was actually even more beautiful than I remembered.

Susan was wearing a sleeveless blouse with a deep V-neck that accented the gentle swell of her breasts. Susan wasn't especially large up top, but the low-cut blouse definitely displayed what she had in a very tasteful fashion.

When I saw her walking . . . it was all I could do to keep from hyperventilating! Her blue jeans looked as though they must have been spray-painted on. I honestly don't understand how she even got those jeans on, they were so tight and hugged her backside so much.

I couldn't help but remember an old Mel McDaniel tune which contains the line, "Lord have mercy, Baby's got her blue jeans on."

The jeans also accented her almost impossibly thin waist.

I don't think she was wearing much makeup, and believe me, she didn't need it. Maybe just a slight light blue eye shadow which really brought out the incredible blue of her eyes, and a hint of blush on her cheeks.

This was truly the most beautiful woman I had ever met.

We talked for hours that afternoon and evening. We quickly found out that we were both the only children in our families – no brothers or sisters.

I told her my father owned a small farm in North Carolina, but also worked full time at one of the many, many furniture plants in the state.

I found out her father owned a large ranch, but also owned a construction company that specialized in road building and paving.

I told her about growing up on that small farm in North Carolina.

She told me about growing up on that large ranch in Texas.

I told her about plowing fields, and planting wheat, oats and soybeans, and driving combines to harvest those crops, then about baling hay.

She told me about saddling horses and going for half-day or even full day rides across their ranch. That was actually how she had broken her nose, being thrown off a horse who had been spooked by a piece of paper fluttering in the wind.

A friend of mine in North Carolina owned several horses, so I usually rode several times a month, but Susan rode nearly every day. Well, at least until she started college.

We told each other about hunting, fishing and camping in our respective states. She loved hunting and fishing, and dearly loved camping. And so did I.

I told her about how my mother insisted that I take music lessons, and that I used to play the piano and violin. And how much I hated those music lessons because they kept me from being outside on the farm.

She told me about how, almost from the time she could walk, her mother had insisted on Susan entering every beauty pageant in Texas and surrounding states while growing up – and how much she had hated every one. She won most of the tournaments, but still hated participating in them.

She wanted nothing more than to be a tom-boy, tending to and riding horses, but her mother kept trying to make her a prim and proper "lady."

And how much she had always rebelled against that. 

Until a year earlier when her mother died of cancer. She was apparently perfectly healthy, but one day noticed a small lump in her breast. Within six weeks, she had died. The cancer had already spread throughout her mother's body, and by the time they found it, it was too late.

Susan had refused to enter any pageants in the last few years, but her mother's last request was that she enter the Miss Texas Pageant, and "try" to win.

"I know how much you hate these pageants, and I don't care if you win or not," her mother said to Susan, "but I want you to really try . . . really try for once."

Her runner-up finish in the Miss Texas Pageant, nine months earlier, showed how much she had tried, but Susan said her lack of a real talent – other than raising horses – had hurt her chances with the judges.

"So many of the other girls could sing, or dance so beautifully, or play musical instruments," she said. "I tried to play the piano, but it was obvious that I hadn't taken lessons in years."

Susan had started to cry softly while relating this, until I told her she had no reason to cry.

"I know your mother would have been very proud of you," I told her, "you finished as runner-up, and I am sure most of the other girls had spent years just getting ready for this one pageant. You had, what, three months?"

She nodded her head, "Yes."

"You did your mother proud," I told her. "You tried, you gave it your all, and that's all anyone can ask."

By now Susan was sitting on the edge of the bed, and leaned over and kissed me, very softly, very gently. I think Susan had the softest lips I had ever felt on a woman.

"Thank you for saying that," she said.

"Are . . . are you an angel?" I asked, with a big grin, "because that's the most heavenly kiss I've ever received."

Susan and I both laughed, then we heard something at the door.

Another nurse was there, and I noticed she looked at Susan a little strangely, but really didn't think much about it.

"Visiting hours are over," she announced.

Susan got up to leave.

"Will you come back tomorrow?" I asked her.

Susan said she had classes in the morning, but should be here around 1 pm.

Before she left, I grabbed her hand.

"You ARE an angel," I declared, and kissed her fingers.

She laughed, then bide me goodnight.

I think I fell asleep in minutes.

At six the next morning, I was woken up by a nurse that was scarier than any of my drill sergeants at Paris Island. She was about three inches shorter than Susan, and weighed at least 200 pounds, so I assumed this must be Debra, the head nurse.

Her name tag confirmed that, and Debra immediately started yelling at me to get up, get out of bed, and get ready for physical therapy.

"Physical therapy?" I asked. "I just had surgery two days ago!"

"And you should have started yesterday," she declared. "The Marine Corps and the Navy don't have time for you to be laying around on your skinny little ass!

"Now, can you use the bathroom by yourself . . . or do I have to help you?"

Dracula, I mean Debra helped me to the bathroom, but I did manage to do my business by myself.

Debra then had me set down in a wheelchair and wheeled me to a torture chamber that would have been more at home with the Spanish Inquisition.

After two of the most incredibly painful, brutal hours I had ever experienced Debra pushed me back to my room, where breakfast was waiting.


The Marine & The Beauty Queen Ch. 01



Then I just waited. At 12, they brought me lunch, which for hospital food was actually quite good.

True to her word, at almost preciously 1 pm, Susan walked through the door.

To be honest, I really didn't know quite what to expect today. I mean we had talked for hours and hours the previous day, and at one point Susan actually kissed me. Just a very brief kiss on the lips – but still a kiss.

So, what would today bring?

When Susan walked in, she walked over, grabbed my hand in both of hers . . . then leaned over and gave me another kiss! Wow! I mean it was only a second or two longer than the one from yesterday, and closed-mouthed (no tongue), but still a wonderful kiss!

"Are you ready to get out of her for a little while?" she asked.

"As long as you keep me away from Debra and the torture chamber you folks call physical therapy, then yes," I exclaimed.

Susan laughed, then helped me into a wheelchair, and pushed me outside into the sunshine.

We found a beautiful little secluded garden area on the hospital grounds, and we just sat, holding hands and talking for hours.

By six pm, I had to use the bathroom so Susan wheeled me back to my room, then offered to "help" me if I needed assistance. She actually asked if she needed to hold "it" while I peed.

I couldn't help it. I blushed, Susan started laughing, and I blushed even more.

I threatened to hit her with my crutches!

We were both laughing like crazy people now.

When I finally was able to conclude my business in the bathroom, Susan wheeled me to the hospital cafeteria where we ate our first meal together. 

Meatloaf and mashed potatoes in a hospital cafeteria is not exactly the most romantic meal I have ever had. 

Wait, let me revise that: With Susan, meatloaf and mashed potatoes in a hospital cafeteria might well be the most romantic meal I had ever had. It was certainly one of the most memorable.

My surgery had been Sunday morning, and, other than Monday, every day that week was virtually a repeat.

Godzilla, I mean Debra would wake me up every morning at 6 am, then take me to the torture chamber for two hours.

Back in my room, I would eat breakfast, read, sleep, read, eat lunch, and then wait for Susan.

And every day, sometime after breakfast, and well before lunch, I found out why people hate sponge baths.

Every day Susan would arrive at 1 pm, exactly. 

And every day, when Susan walked into my room she would lean over and kiss me. And every day the kiss would last a little longer.

After the kiss, Susan would then wheel me around the hospital, or around the grounds outside. We would sit and hold hands and talk – for hours.

After eating, she would take me back to my room and help me into bed, then we would talk and talk and talk. Every night, a nurse would come in and say that visiting hours were over.

And every night, before leaving, Susan would lean over and give me another kiss.

I never tried to grab her, or prolong the kiss. I just let her kiss me.

By Thursday night, I felt her tongue press against my lips. I opened my mouth, and we finally exchanged a deep kiss. I was still making no effort to hold her or force her against me. I just very lightly put my hands on her shoulders.

We actually kissed for several minutes before Susan pulled back and said, "Wow!"

"Yea," I agreed, "that was really Wow!"

Susan just looked down at me for a few minutes with a very serious look on her face, then her face transformed into an absolutely gorgeous smile: "See you around one," she said, then swayed out the door.

The next morning, Cerberus, I mean Debra woke me up, then wheeled me down for my usual torture session, which seemed especially painful today. The rest of the day proceeded like normal, until it was time for lunch.

For a change, Debra brought me lunch herself, and sat down beside the bed.

She watched me eat for a few minutes, then began:

"Are you going to hurt her?" she said.

Before I could even answer, Debra continued talking.

"Did you know that Susan normally only volunteers two or three days a week at the hospital? But she has been here every day this week – because of you.

"I don't think I have ever seen anyone fall so completely in love before, so quickly. I can tell, just from watching the two of you that you also care for her.

"But do you understand that Susan is incredibly vulnerable right now?

"Did she tell you about her mother dying a year ago?"

I told Debra, that yes, Susan told me.

"Did she tell you that nine months ago, three days after the Miss Texas Pageant, she was brutally raped?"

I could literally feel the blood drain from my face, and it was obvious to Debra that Susan had not told me.

"Oh, my God, no! She hasn't said a word about it," I croaked out.

"Since then, she hasn't looked at any guy – until you.

"She talks about you all the time. About how confident and sure of yourself you are, yet how gentle and relaxed you are. About how you are always making her laugh. How easily you can laugh at yourself and tell stories about some of the dumb things you did growing up. And how intensely you listen when she is talking.

"Susan's mother and I grew up together, and I'm actually Susan's Godmother. I helped her get this volunteer job, so she could start interacting with people again, and was hoping that through helping others, she could also start helping herself," Debra said.

"I could not love Susan any more if she were my own daughter," Debra continued.

"I want to ask you again. Are you going to hurt her?"

"Oh God, Debra, I knew I was falling in love with Susan, but not until now did I actually realize just how much I love her. How much I want to protect her. How much I want to hold her. How much I want to help her.

"I swear Debra, I will never intentionally hurt her!"

Debra and I talked for another 30 minutes, and I began to realize that beneath that gruff exterior beats a heart of gold.

As 1 pm neared, Debra got ready to leave, but advised me to not say anything to Susan about any of the things we had talked about.

"When she's ready for you to know, she'll tell you," she advised.

I lay there for about 10 minutes, until I saw my door start to open. I knew it had to be Susan, so I closed my eyes, and pretended to be sleeping.

Unfortunately, I couldn't keep my ruse up very long. About 30 seconds after I heard Susan walk over to my bed, my lips began curling upward in a smile, but I continued to keep my eyes closed.

"Hmmm," I heard Susan say, "I've heard about the handsome prince waking Sleeping Beauty with a kiss, but I not sure what to do with this situation.

"Oh, now I remember," she said, "I've read about the beautiful maiden kissing the ugly frog who turns into a prince! I wonder if that will work here?"

Then she leaned over and kissed me on the lips.

I immediately opened my eyes and was looking directly into her eyes from a distance of about two inches.

We both immediately dissolved into laughter.

"Forsooth, fair maiden, it is I Prince Charming," I declared, once I was able to stop laughing. "Your kiss has broken the evil spell. Are . . . are you an angel?"

"Nay, Prince, not an angel but a simple maiden am I," she said. "But my Lord, I had always heard that Prince Charming was supposed to be riding on a white horse, not laying around on a white hospital bed . . . and was supposed to be much more handsome!"

We both began laughing again, until Susan walked over to my closet and started taking out my khaki Marine uniform.

"Here, start getting dressed," she ordered. "I am kidnapping you for the entire weekend."

When I questioned her about my leaving the hospital, she explained she had already cleared it with both my doctor, and with the head nurse, Debra. Suddenly it made sense why Debra had stopped by for our private conversation earlier today.

"In less than three months, I'll be graduating with my nursing degree," she continued, "and I can take care of you at the ranch, as easily as I can here."

I already knew that Susan had a near perfect 3.98 grade point average in nursing, and would be graduating with honors.

She added that the doctor, even though he wasn't actually supposed to, had given her a medical kit containing everything they thought she might need.

I think I groaned a little as I swung my injured leg across the bed.

"Are you okay?" Susan immediately asked, the concern evident on her face.

I assured her I was fine, just remarked that they were "especially sadistic" today during my morning physical therapy.

Unfortunately, my khaki trousers would not fit over the bandages on my knee, so we had to settle for a pair of shorts, and a comfortable shirt.

But before Susan put the uniform back in the closet, she started asking about the medals on the shirt. I explained what each meant, including the Silver Star and Purple Heart. Not what had happened to get them, but what the medals were.

"You were wounded?" she asked. "Where?"

"In Iraq," I answered.

"No, I mean where on your body?" she explained.

"In Iraq," I again said.

No matter how many times she asked, nor how many different ways, my only answer was always, "In Iraq."

Finally, somewhat exasperated, she declared: "I promise you I will find out before the weekend is over!"



The Marine & The Beauty Queen Ch. 02



Four hours, and about 150 questions later about the location of my wound, we finally arrived at her father's ranch.

The drive itself was fascinating. The land was so different from anything I had seen before, even different from the land around Fort Hood, and vastly different from my native North Carolina, and Iraq.

I also found out that most Texans (including Susan), considered speed limit signs to be mere suggestions as to the minimum speed they should be doing.

Initially, after we left Corpus Christi, the land was incredibly flat, but several hours later we begin to enter rolling hills with immense pastures.

In North Carolina, my father owned a little over 125 acres, with 75 in fields, and about 50 acres in forest. Of the 75 acres of land we plowed, and planted, every year we tended half that. So, one year we would tend 37 acres, and let the other 38 acres lie "fallow" for a year, to rebuild the soil. The next year, we would switch fields.

Our largest field was about 10 acres, with five to seven acres being more normal. Almost every field was completely surrounded by forests, with narrow farm roads being the only access from one field to another.

In Texas, most of the pastures seemed to be larger than my father's entire farm.

The further we drove, the hilly the country became, and the pastures were filled with lush, green grass.

When I remarked about that to Susan, she explained.

"We've really had a lot of rain this year," Susan said, "normally the fields aren't quite that green, and the grass isn't that heavy."

In North Carolina, we had huge oaks, and towering poplar and pine trees. In Texas, there weren't many trees, and most were rather . . . well . . . low and gnarly, or scrawny. When I asked Susan about the trees, she said they were "mesquite."

By now, we had been driving for about three-and-a-half hours, so I asked Susan how much farther to her Dad's ranch?

"Actually, the land on both sides of the road is his," she said. "We should get to the farmhouse in another 30 minutes."

Wait, I thought. We are already on her Dad's property and it will still take 30 minutes to get to the farmhouse? And Susan wasn't exactly driving slowly.

"Just how much land does your father own?" I asked her.

"I'm actually not exactly sure," she said, "but I think it is about five thousand acres, plus he leases some more."

When I didn't say anything, Susan looked over at me, then burst out laughing before reaching over and pushing my bottom jaw shut.

"Really, Dennis, when your mouth is open like that, it makes you look kind of goofy," she said.

"Five thousand acres?" I finally manage to blurt out, "plus leases more?"

"Look, Dennis," Susan began explaining, "you told me your father has 125 acres, and you farm about 75 acres?"

I nodded yes.

"Let's suppose that he could, instantly, transfer all 50 acres of trees into pastureland, thick with the kind of grass you have up there. How many horses do you think he could raise on that 50 acres?"

I told her I wasn't sure.

"Probably about two horses per acre. Depending on what size barn you have, and how many stalls, possibly even three horses per acre. Let's say 150 horses. Now you would never push it that much, but it would be possible.

"In North Carolina, and places like Kentucky, you talk about horses per acre.

"Down here, we talk about acres per horse. I have been driving northwest, since leaving Corpus Christi. If instead, we had stayed in the valley below Corpus Christi, and driven straight west, or slightly southwest, the land is very different.

"It would be as hot as you know what, with scruffy dry grass, and trees that look like they are dying of thirst. Down there, you would only be able to raise about one horse for every 10 acres.

"Around here, my father can easily raise one horse per five acres, but he never even comes close to that. In fact, he usually tries to maintain that ratio of one horse per 10 acres.

"In North Carolina, 150 horses would require 50 acres. Here, with my father, 150 horses require 1,500 acres! And he has a lot more than 150 horses, plus cattle."

When I didn't say anything, Susan again looked over and started laughing before reaching over and pushing my mouth shut for the second time. She again made a little remark about how "goofy" I was looking.

I stuck my tongue out at her!

She laughed, stuck her tongue out at me, then Susan continued her ranching lesson.

"You also have to remember that, even though we have had a lot of rain around here, there are other places on the ranch where they have had no rain.

"So every year you have to consider that anywhere from 10 to 20 percent of the ranch land cannot be grazed for one reason or another. Plus another 10 to 20 percent simply never will be usable as grazing land, since it is too rocky or hilly."

I was still in shock at the thought of anyone owning 5,000 acres, so the rest of drive kind of passed in a blur.

Finally, though, Susan turned onto another dirt road, and in about five minutes we came onto a farm, filled with different buildings.

Susan stopped the car, and started explaining what the different building were. Some, like the barns (there were three) I could have figured out myself, but others, including one she called the dog house kind of threw me.

"Dog house?" I exclaimed, looking at the single story building that must have been well over 100 feet long.

Susan started laughing again, and said that was what they called the bunk house in Texas, where the hired cowboys used to live.

"Now, of course, most have their own homes and drive here every morning," she said. Susan said her father had about 15 to 20 hired cowboys at any given time.

"A few actually live in the dog house, but most just drive here," she added.

Susan then resumed driving.

No sooner had we pulled up in front of a sprawling, two-story house than the door opened and out walked the biggest man I think I have ever seen.

I am not exactly small. I'm just a tad under six feet, and weigh about 190 pounds.

He had to be at least 6 feet, 6 inches, and probably tipped the scales a little south of 300 pounds.

"Look Daddy," Susan began in a little girl voice, "this Marine with an injured leg followed me home. Can I keep him?"

"A Marine? A Marine?" he began in a very gruff voice and very stern visage, "you brought a Marine onto our property? I thought I raised you better than that Susan?"

Then he smiled, and stuck out a hand about the size of a medium turkey.

"Former Staff Sergeant John Williams, U-S-M-C," he said, "Semper Fi!"

"Corporal Dennis Osborne," I offered. "Please to make your acquaintance, Sir. Semper Fi!"

My hand was completely swallowed in his, but much to my surprise he did not try to crush my fingers.

Mr. Williams grabbed my small bag, Susan handed me my crutches, and I hobbled inside.

One of the first questions Mr. Williams ("Please call me John") asked was about my leg.

Before I could even answer, Susan jumped in to explain that I had been injured when the truck I had been riding in crashed during a training exercise.

"But Daddy, I also know he has a Silver Star, and a Purple Heart," she said, "but he won't tell me anything about those."

John didn't say anything for a few minutes, but Susan and I could both see him turn slightly pale.

"Susan," he finally began, "I have never told you this, but I also have several medals I received in Vietnam – including the Navy Cross, the Silver Star, and two Purple Hearts. When a veteran doesn't want to talk about his medals – well it usually means it is too painful for him to remember."

By now, John – big, big John – actually had tears running down his face.

Susan had been sitting beside me on the couch, holding my hand, but now she jumped up and ran over to her father and hugged him.

"I'm sorry Daddy, I never even thought about that. And I'm sorry I made you remember something you have been trying to forget."

By now, of course, I am feeling terrible. John probably thinks I did something heroic that I don't want to talk about, and of course the truth – at least as it concerns the Purple Heart – is completely different.

"John, Susan, I think I need to explain something," I began.

"First, the Silver Star and the Purple Heart have nothing to do with each other. In fact, they happened about three months apart."

I then explained about the Silver Star, and our compound being attacked at night, and how I, and my best friend, managed to hold off the insurgents until the members of my platoon could reorganize and repulse the attack. I had lost my best friend during that attack, and I think they could both see the pain I was experiencing as I remembered.

I felt my face flush as I began telling them about the RPG (Rocket Propelled Grenade) that had exploded in our compound months earlier, several hundred feet from where I was standing.

At first, I did not think anyone had been injured in that explosion.

Then one of my buddies telling me he thought I was bleeding.

About going to the first aid tent, and founding out that I had been hit by a fragment of metal.

By now, Susan had rejoined me on the couch and was holding my hand again, staring intently into my eyes. She actually had tears brimming her brilliant blue eyes.

"Susan, John, the fact of the matter is – I was wounded . . . I was wounded in the ass."

Susan blinked, and I heard a small chuckle from John.

I then told them about the 30-second surgery to remove the tiny fragment, about getting a band-aide, and how the tetanus shot hurt worse than the wound.

As I began telling them about all the ribbing I received, we were all laughing. And when I explained about the formation to actually present me with the Purple Heart for my butt wound, and the ribbing that followed, and especially about having a big fluffy pillow on my seat every single day, we were practically rolling on the floor.

Eventually, we ended up in the dining room where we all ate a Texas-sized dinner. I can't remember ever eating as much before.

I don't know that I have ever felt so . . . well, comfortable with other people before. I had known Susan for less than a week, and John only a few hours, but it seemed to be the most natural thing in the world for me to be sitting there, talking with them.

When we went back to the living room, John talked about the ranch and his construction business for several hours. And Susan sat beside me the entire time, holding my hand.

Every so often, very unselfconsciously, Susan would lean over and give me a little kiss (or two), or lean her head against my shoulder.

I said that Susan was doing this very unselfconsciously, even though her father was sitting just a few feet away. BELIEVE ME, I was very conscious that this mountain of a man was sitting there glaring at me. 

Well, to be honest, I really can't say he was glaring. In fact, a time or two I thought he almost smiled – a little – but I was paying a lot more attention to those monstrous hands of his which could probably have rippled me into little pieces!

By 10 pm, it was all I could do to keep my eyes open. I was yawning practically non-stop.

"Well, I think it's time I went to bed," John said.

"Susan, which bedroom do you want Dennis to take?" he asked.

"Actually, Daddy . . . Dennis will be sleeping in my bed tonight – with me," Susan said as she looked directly into my eyes with a beautiful smile on her face.

Oh, Shit!

I knew I was dead!

Not only is John a former Marine, not only is he the biggest man I have ever met, he is also a man who obviously loves his only child. And with my bum knee, I can't even run!

All I could do was wait for John to kill me!

Instead, much to my surprise, I heard John say in an incredibly gentle voice, "Yea, seeing the two of you together, I kinda thought so."

We all stood up, and father and daughter hugged each other. John kissed her on the cheek.

Then this massive man walked over to me, and stuck out his turkey size hand again. I shook his hand for a minute, then he grabbed me in a bear hug and I heard him gently whisper, "You take good care of her, you hear? She has suffered enough."

I, in an equally low voice, assured him that I loved his daughter and would never do anything to hurt her.

Without saying another word, John turned and left the room, leaving Susan and I together.

"Are . . . are you ready to go to bed?" Susan asked, as her face flushed bright red.

I didn't say a word, just opened my arms wide and then Susan was in my arms holding me tightly, and I – for the first time – really hugged this beautiful woman.

We held each other for several minutes, until Susan leaned back a little and asked, "Well, are we going to stay here for the rest of the night?" God, she is so beautiful when she smiles!

I told her that I wanted to pick her up and carry her to her room, but that "I couldn't, for two reasons."

"Two reasons? What two reasons?" she asked, very puzzled.

"Well, first, even though you don't weigh quite as much as Debra . . ."

That was as far as I got before I gasped in pain, because her two hands, which had been very gently holding me suddenly turned into razor sharp claws, digging into my back and spine.

"Are you sure you don't want to try that again?" Susan asked, with a very sweet smile.

"Yes," I said, "well first . . . even though you are as light as a feather (the claws began to withdraw from my back) I think even a feather might be too much for my knee right now."

"Much, much better," she declared, "and the second reason?"

"And the second reason (and I could feel the claws starting to dig in again as Susan whispered, "Careful.") . . . and the second reason is I have absolutely no idea where your room is!"

Susan laughed, then grabbed my hand and said, "Well come on Prince Frog, I'll show you."

"Prince Frog," I inquired, in a very injured tone. "I thought it was supposed to be Prince Charming?"

"After what you just said about my not weighing quite as much as Debra, it's Prince Frog until I decide otherwise."



The Marine & The Beauty Queen Ch. 03



Very slowly, mainly because of my knee, we walked through the house to her bedroom, which thankfully -- as it turned out -- was on the opposite side of the house from John's. I left my crutches in the living room, and leaned some -- okay, more than some -- on Susan as we walked down the hallway.

Once inside, Susan closed -- and locked -- the door. She lit about a dozen candles throughout the room, then turned out the lights.

Susan helped me walk over to the bed, then told me to go ahead and get undressed while she took a quick shower.

"I promise I won't be but a few minutes. Okay?" she asked, as she quickly kissed me.

She was a good as her word -- in less than five minutes she walked out of the bathroom, completely naked.

I was simply in awe! Even by, or perhaps especially because of the flicking candle light, I knew I had never seen a more lovely sight.

If I thought I had died and gone to heaven before -- well, seeing Susan slowly walking across the room to the bed was so far beyond that I can't even describe it.

If my time on earth was through at that very moment, then I could have died perfectly happy -- knowing that I had seen the most beautiful woman on earth and that she was naked for me.

I have to admit here, that one thing I have never understood is women's bra sizes. Over the years I have known women with large breasts who might wear a 34 or 36 bra, and women with very small breasts who might wear a 36 or 38 size. So I knew enough to know that the nominal size actually had as much to do with the circumference of the chest, as the size of the breast. In other words, women with thick chests would naturally have a larger bra size than slender or thin women.

But I have never understood the letter designations, such as A, B, C, D, E, F, etc. And when you throw in double letter combinations such as DD, EE, etc., it is even more confusing.

Earlier in the week (after I had asked, perhaps impolitely), Susan told me her measurements were 34-23-34. Several days after our first night together, Susan told me she usually wore a "B" cup, but sometimes would wear an "A" cup, and sometimes a "C" cup, so I think I will always be totally confused.

All I can tell you is that Susan's breasts were the most beautiful I had ever seen, and later held and kissed. Perhaps it would be better to say that her breasts were about the size of a peach, and like a peach were sweeter than I could describe.

I also couldn't help but notice that she was completely hairless "down there."

I used to think that all women were pretty much the same, but since then I learned that, in fact, all women are actually completely different. The vulva in a woman are like snowflakes -- no two in the world are identical.

I also learned that they all tasted different. And I have also learned that no two women respond the same way to someone kissing, and licking them, and that some women can't stand to have a man touch their clitoris after they climax, and some women get even more turned on, and have even heightened orgasms.

I was very curious to learn what Susan liked, and what she didn't. And I wanted to make her experience with me the best she had ever had, or had ever even dreamed possible.

I was only wearing a pair of boxer shorts, and still sitting on the side of the bed.

Susan sat down beside me.

I reached over to take her hand, and realized that she wasn't simply trembling, she was shaking like a leaf.

Remembering what Debra had said, I very gently put my hand up to her face and looked directly into her eyes.

"Don't be scared, my Angel," I said, "I promise I will never hurt you, or make you do anything you don't want to do.

"I am not expecting anything from you, and if you just want to lay down together tonight, just holding each other, then I will still be the happiest man on earth."

Susan didn't say anything, but I noticed that the intense shaking nearly stopped, and now she was just trembling slightly.

She leaned forward and kissed me.

And I kissed back.

Susan took my hand and put it on her breast, and I heard her moan softly as I began gently caressing her.

Susan broke the kiss and put her lips next to my ear and whispered so quietly I had to strain to hear.

"Please love me, Dennis, please love me. Please make love to me now."

I whispered back to her, almost as softly, "I do love you Susan, and I will always love you. And with your permission, now I will make love to you."

Susan began kissing me again, and now I put one arm around her back, while continuing to gently knead her breast, then took my thumb and began rubbing her nipple.

She moaned even louder, and began kissing me even harder.

Since we were both still seated on the side of the bed, I tried to gently push Susan over onto her back, while shifting my position on the bed and bringing my legs up.

Intense, incredible pain coursed through my body, and I think I nearly blacked out for a second or two as I gasped in agony.

"Oh, shit!" I exclaimed, as beads of sweat sprang out across my forehead.

"What's wrong? What's wrong?" Susan cried out.

"My leg," was all I could say through clenched teeth.

Since the surgery, the only way I could get into bed was to carefully sit down on the edge of the bed, then either I or someone else would have to put their hands under my thigh and slowly lift my leg onto the bed. It still hurt, but since I was expecting it I was prepared for it.

Now, however, in the passion of the moment I had completely forgotten about my leg.

And this time there was nothing slow or gentle about my movement as I tried to lift my leg and swing it around onto the bed.

After several intense, pain filled moments, the worse of the pain began to pass, and Susan was finally able to help me get my injured leg on top of the bed.

Then, still naked of course, she laid down beside me. I was lying flat on my back.

That was when I found out Susan had an evil streak inside her.

"I am not expecting anything from you, Dennis and if you just want to lay down together tonight, just holding each other, then I will still be the happiest woman on earth," she said, as a big, beautiful smile appeared on her face.

Hearing my words repeated back to me prompted me to threaten her with my crutches! Of course I had to add that she would need to go get my crutches, since I had left them in the living room.

She laughed, and said she "never realized I have this hidden power to make men cry out in pain."

"I wonder what else I can do to you," she quipped, as she straddled my waist and leaned forward and kissed me.

Both my hands reached up and began caressing her breasts as she gasped, then began kissing me harder.

Soon I pulled forward slightly on her breasts and she slid up on my torso until I could take first one, then the other breast into my mouth.

As my tongue licked her nipples she gasped even more and when I began sucking on her breasts she actually cried out. 

I worshiped her breasts with my mouth and tongue for many minutes until she was begging me to stop, saying she wanted me to make love to her.

"I am going to make love to you, my Angel," I promised, "but first I want to taste you."

Susan actually had a slightly puzzled look on her face as she said, "But how? You can't move."

I slid my hands under her thighs, which were pressed again my stomach, then reached lower until my hands were under her butt.

She really is as light as a feather, I thought, as I lifted her up and brought her directly over my face.

"What are you doing?" she asked, then when she realized what I had in mind she added, "But I've never . . . I mean no one has ever . . . I mean how can you do that?"

But I decided I still needed to pay her back a little for teasing me about not expecting anything from me, so I had to say: "Yea, not quite as heavy as Debra!"

Then before she could say anything I lowered her beautiful, hairless pussy onto my face and plunged my tongue deep inside her.

Susan cried out as she felt my tongue penetrate deep inside her.

"Oh, oh, oh my God, oh you bastard . . . I'm going to get you for saying that . . . oh, oh, oh."

By now she was rocking herself back and forth on my face, and after just a few minutes I shifted upward to begin licking on her clitoral hood.

"Oh my God, oh my God, what are you doing to me? I've never felt anything like that . . ."

All motion stopped for a few seconds, then Susan cried out again as her body was convulsing against my face.

I later found out that that was the first time in her life Susan had ever had an orgasm.

Over the course of the weekend, Susan told me about her prior experience -- which was actually very limited.

About two years earlier, she had finally given her long-time boyfriend her virginity. Only he wasn't especially attentive to her needs.

Sex between the two of them would usually consist of a few minutes of foreplay, then he would plunge inside her. In a matter of a minute or so, he would get off, leaving her very frustrated. Only once or twice had he ever gone done on her -- for just a minute of two -- but didn't seem to mind if she used her mouth on him. But he never kissed her afterward.

She had finally broken off the relationship just a few weeks before her mother died, then she was busy taking care of her mother, during her last days, and trying to get ready for the Miss Texas Pageant.

The next day she also told me about the rape, and the even worse aftermath -- something that neither her father nor Debra knew.

But those conversations were for later -- at the moment I had this beautiful woman straddling my face, still coming down from her orgasm.

I waited a minute or two, then again starting my ministrations to her incredibly wonderful tasting pussy.

In just a few minutes she again began convulsing against my face in the throes of an even stronger orgasm, and this time I began sucking on her clitoris as it emerged from its protective hood.

She screamed as the orgasm continued, ever stronger than before.

By now Susan was completely beyond words as she was desperately holding onto the headboard to keep from toppling off my face.

I finally relented, and allowed her to come back to earth.

Well, almost relented -- I continued to blow warm air very gently against her clitoris which caused small spasms to race through her body.

The entire time I Susan had been straddling my face, my hands had been holding, and caressing, and massaging and squeezing her breasts. My thumbs would brush over her nipples, and sometimes I would very gently squeeze her nipples between my thumbs and forefingers.

Between the actions of my mouth and tongue, and my hands, Susan would gasp and moan and cry out softly, in a never-ending litany of pleasure.

Now, I brought my left hand down and draped my forearm over her thigh until I could reach in and begin caressing her beautiful young pussy lips.

It was impossible for me to bend my hand or fingers enough to actually push inside her, so I did the next best thing. I entered her with my thumb.

She again cried out, then began rocking herself against my thumb and face.

I did the same with my right hand, and when that thumb also entered her she cried out even louder.

As for me, I could not believe how tight she was! I could barely force both thumbs inside her.

As I looked up at Susan, her eyes were shut tight, but I was amazed to see both hands cupping her breasts. She was -- well mauling is the closest word I can think of -- mauling her own breasts, squeezing tighter than I would have dared to do, and as I watched she began twisting her own nipples between her thumbs and forefingers, and pulling on the nipples.

When I began licking her clitoris, she stopped all movement, and then as I began to suck on her clitoris she screamed even louder and began bucking harder than ever against my face and thumbs as a massive orgasm rocked her body.

Looking up, I could see that her mouth was still open but it must have been a silent scream of pleasure because she was not making any sounds.

Finally, after a minute or so of frantic bucking against my thumbs and face, she just toppled over on her side. Of course my arms were still wrapped tightly around her thighs, so she couldn't fall too far.

Both thumbs pulled out of her as Susan began to fall over, so I just lightly began caressing her stomach, abdomen and thighs. One leg was under my head, and the other was now draped over my shoulder.

Finally her desperate gasps for breath lessened, and she moved both legs until she could lay down beside me.

"Oh My God, Dennis, what did you do to me?" she asked, still struggling to regain her breath.

I, of course, found that question very easy to answer.

"I tried to show you how much I love you Susan," I said. "And those aren't just words Susan Williams. I love you more than I thought it would be possible for one person to love another."

And I did. We had known each other less than a week, but I simply could not imagine a life without Susan in it.

My face, and neck and upper chest is simply coated with fluid from this beautiful woman, but she began both laughing and crying as she leaned over and began kissing me. I know she could taste herself on me, but she did not appear to care.

"And I love you too, Dennis! O God, do I love you so much!"

We kissed for several minutes, then she said, "Now, I want to feel you inside me. Now, I want you to make love to me."

For a brief instant, I saw what I could only describe as a haunted look come into her eyes, and she said something so softly I was not sure if I heard correctly or not.

"Get rid of the demons," is what I think I heard, but of course that is only part of what she said. The other words were spoken so softly I almost could not hear them, but I think I heard her say, and she later did confirm this, after telling me about the rape, "Make love to me, and get rid of the demons that haunt my dreams."

Susan again straddled me, and then made what could have sounded like an odd request.

"Can you . . . can you put it inside me?" she asked.

Even though I knew none of the details of the rape, I (correctly) figured that her reluctance to touch me had something to do with what occurred during that ordeal.

Susan was straddling me, and I have been as hard as a rock for at least 15 minutes now. And I am still wearing boxers. I push the boxers down enough to free my penis, and direct it to the incredible vagina waiting above.

As I put it in position, the head grazes her vagina and Susan gasps and shudders, then begins slowly lowering herself onto me.

After the head enters her, Susan stops and looks at me.

"Oh God, how big are you?" she asks.

She doesn't give me an opportunity to answer, just continues to slowly push down onto me.

She is gasping, and crying out as each small fraction of an inch enters her.

As for me, it is the most intense sensation I have ever felt.

I am not even sure how to describe it. Trying to push against wet, silk lined, unyielding steel might be as close as I could come.

By the time I am half-way inside, Susan again stops and says, "You are huge! How big are you?"

Actually, I am not THAT big. I mean I have read about the average size of the male penis, so I knew I was a little longer, and, well maybe slightly more than above average in terms of circumference, but not monster size by any stretch of the imagination. 

Susan continued trying to impale herself on my erection, until finally I felt our two bodies press together.

"Oh God, I am afraid to move," I heard Susan say, and I saw that she actually has tears in her eyes.

"Just rock forward a little, then back," I tell her, "until you get used to it."

She looks at me a little uncertain, but does as I advise.

She immediately gasped as she feels my penis move inside her, and, well I gasped as well. It was such an incredible feeling.

After a minute or two of Susan just moving forward and backward, I tell her to try also moving from side to side.

Again, she gasps, but this time I could hear the pleasure in Susan's voice.

"Oh my God, Oh my God, that feels good," she manages to say.

Soon, she alternates between moving forward and backward and from side to side, then on her own begins moving in a circular motion.

Susan reaches out and grasps both my arms with her hands, and soon is leaning backward just moving her body against mine. Her head is titled as far backward as she can move it.

As for me, I can truly say I have never been in a women tighter than Susan, and I have never loved anyone the way I love Susan. It is all I can do to keep from cumming at this point.

So I try something I would not recommend for anyone else, but it worked for me that night.

I moved my leg -- rather hard.

The pain coursing through my body made me gasp, but at least it had the side effect of dulling the need to cum.

Susan never realized, since she assumed my gasp was a mirror of her own, since she was gasping and moaning almost continuously.

Finally, after about 10 minutes of moving one way or the other, or moving in a circular motion, Susan tried to lift herself upward slightly, then back down. Probably not more than an inch.

A huge gasp from Susan this time, and a definite leg movement (and gasp) from me.

A half-dozen leg movements from me later, Susan is moving up about half my length, then slamming herself back down.

Then -- she screams as a truly massive orgasm hits her. Once the muscles in her vagina contract around me -- well no leg movement in the world could deny my own massive orgasm.

I have never cum like that before. It felt like I pumped a gallon of semen inside her. Of course I know that is impossible, but that is what it felt like.

Susan kind of folded herself down against me until her breasts were pressing against my chest.

She only said two words to let me know how well I had done in making love to her that night, before she feel into a deep sleep -- for the first time in nine months without any nightmares she told me the next day.

"Prince Charming," was all she managed to say before falling asleep with my penis still deep inside her.

As for me? I did manage to reach over and pulled some covers over us, before I joined her in the most peaceful sleep I can ever remember.

I woke up about five, the next morning, with Susan still laying on my chest. As I opened my eyes, I was looking into the most beautiful smile, and the most beautiful blue eyes I have ever seen.

"Good Morning, Prince Charming," Susan said.

"Good Morning, My Angel," I replied.

She leaned up and kissed me, then said "Ummm, someone needs to take a bath!"

"Yes, I know," I answered, "but I love you no matter how stinky you are!"

She laughed, then began tickling me. I quickly had to give up, because I really needed to pee, and being tickled wasn't helping me any.

Susan helped me into the bathroom where I took care of my business, then Susan announced that she was going to give me a sponge bath.

I think I may have said something earlier about how much I hate sponge baths? Please forget I ever wrote that. With Susan doing the washing, I found out how much I love sponge baths!

Before she started, unfortunately, she put on a robe "So you won't get in any trouble."

She had me sit down on the toilet, and removed the bandages from my knee. There was actually some blood from where I had moved a little too fast the night before and opened up a stitch or two. Susan then proceeded to wash my hair, face and neck, then started on my hands, arms, armpits, back and chest.

Next she started washing my feet, ankles and my legs up to my knees.

Susan had me stand up, then washed the backs of my legs, and my butt, including between my cheeks.




The Marine & The Beauty Queen Ch. 03



As she was washing my butt, I heard "Oh Wow! I see it! I see your butt wound. I TOLD you I would find out where it was before this weekend was out!"

Next she moved around to the front where she washed my thighs, and reached up and washed between my legs and my balls.

Soon, there was only one part of my body she had not washed.

And I have to say that when you have an incredibly beautiful women you have already seen naked and had the most mind-blowing sex of your life with, it really doesn't matter if she is wearing a robe or not. It didn't take long before I was hard again.

The entire time Susan had been washing me, she had been laughing and joking and smiling. By the time she finished my backside, the laughing, joking and smiling had stopped.

As she was washing between my legs, she had a very professional, almost stern look on her face.

She stood up to rinse out the cloth, and put more soap on it, knelt down and suddenly began crying. Not just a few tears, but really, really hard crying.

"Oh God, I can't, I can't Dennis, I can't" she wailed.

I have to say that when you see the woman you already love more than life itself in such obvious pain and distress, it instantly deflates any sexual thoughts you might have had and kindles a deeper emotion. To help her, to ease her pain and distress -- to simply love her in the way she needed loving now, which was to hold her and talk to her.

I couldn't kneel down beside her because of my knee, so I sat back down on the toilet then reached over and picked her up under her arms and sat her down on my left leg. I pushed her head against my shoulder and just started stroking her hair and telling her how much I loved her, would always love her.

Eventually she stopped crying, and eventually she looked at me and said, "You must think I am awful! A real idiot!"

I told her I didn't think that at all.

"I think you are the most amazing, most wonderful person I have ever met. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you. You are truly my Angel. My special Angel."

She began crying again, but for a very different reason, then kissed me.

I finished washing myself while she went to get fresh bandages, and clean underwear for me.

As she was getting ready to re-bandage my knee Susan asked how the knee was, and I said fine and asked why she was asking.

"It looks a little swollen," she said, and I assured her again that I was fine, and the swelling was probably from the physical therapy the previous morning, plus my moving too abruptly the night before.

After re-bandaging my knee, she helped me into the bedroom so I could get dressed while she took a shower.

Soon we were both dressed, and Susan unlocked the door -- but not before giving me one of the most mind-blowing kisses I have ever received!

"Thank you for last night . . . and this morning," she said. "Now I think I am beginning to understand what true love is."

As Susan opened the door, the most delightful odors were wafting through the house, so we quickly made our way to the kitchen. Well, that is something of a misnomer, since a toddler could crawl faster than I could hobble.

In the kitchen I think I saw more food than I have ever seen in one place before. Eggs, bacon, sausage, pork-chops, and steaks were piled high. Not to mention a platter of biscuits that would feed a small army.

And I realized I was starving!

When we walked in, John glanced at us, then started to say "Good morning." Only he didn't make it that far.

What John actually said was, "Good . . ." then he looked at Susan again. Suddenly this gruff, mountain-sized ex-Marine was crying as he literally ran over (the house shook), and grabbed Susan in a bear hug, "You're back, my baby is back," he said before he and Susan were both crying.

Finally John put Susan down, and as he started looking at me I tried to back up. I was too slow. The next thing I know is I am about a foot up in the air, caught in my own bear hug and John is saying, "You brought her back to me, you brought her back to me."

Then he stopped, and looked at me (he was still hugging me), and looked over at Susan, then back at me before adding: "At least for a little while. My baby is back for a little while longer."

Susan then told her father to be careful because of my leg, and John reached down with one arm and scooped me up like a father would scoop up a little kid. He carefully walked me over to a chair and gently sat me down.

As Susan walked over to sit down beside me, to my left, John pulled out her chair and after she was seated, did something I have never seen before.

He grabbed Susan's right hand, reached down and grabbed my left hand and put both palms together. Susan apparently must have understood because she actually gasped, then laced her fingers through mine and bent her fingers down until they were pressed against the back of my hand.

John gently pushed my fingers down until my fingers were pressed against the back of Susan's hand. Then this gentle giant raised both our hands together and kissed the back of Susan's hand, then kissed the back of my hand.

John and Susan were both crying bucketfuls, and even though I didn't understand what was going on I found myself crying as well.

Not a word was spoken, and John was holding both our hands high in the air and I realized he was saying a silent prayer.

Finally, he dropped our hands and walked around to the other side of the table and sat down. I rather vaguely heard him say, "Let's eat," but Susan and I were still holding hands and staring into each other's eyes.

I knew I loved Susan more than I would have thought it possible to love someone just a week earlier.

And I had certainly thought Susan loved me as well.

But looking into Susan's eyes, I was not just seeing the most beautiful eyes in the world. 

As strange as it sounds to say, I was seeing a clarity of love so deep, so intense, so all-consuming, so passionate -- so COMPLETE -- it frightened me for a minute.

Have you ever SEEN love? I don't just mean you think someone is pretty nice, or pretty special, or someone you THINK you love. 

Have you ever FELT love? I could feel love radiating from Susan like heat from a stove.

Have you ever been TOUCHED by love? In our two hands clasped together I could feel our hearts merge into one.

Looking into her eyes, I SAW love.

Looking at her face, I FELT love.

Holding her hand, I was TOUCHED by love.

Finally, we both heard John knocking on the table, saying "Come on kids, food is getting cold."

We both flushed a little, then dug in. I thought I had eaten a lot the night before, but now I was eating more than one person should be allowed to eat. 

And Susan was packing away the food as well. I love watching a woman eat, and enjoy her food. 

It always drove me nuts when I would have a date at a nice restaurant and the woman would only order a salad. 

Eat! Enjoy life! Live a little!

When we finally finished, John asked us what we were planning on doing the rest of the day.

Susan looked at me, then held her hand up, palm facing me. I quickly put my palm against hers, and we laced our fingers together again.

"I thought we would go up to Rosewood Canyon, and spend the night at the cabin," she said.

"Dennis can't ride a horse with that leg can he?" John asked.

Susan explained that no, I couldn't, but I could drive his big four-wheeler while she rode her horse.

"Actually, Daddy, I think I will saddle both Thunder and Lightning today. I can ride one until he gets tired, then switch to the other so we can be there in just a couple of hours."

John said he would go get the four-wheeler ready, and saddle both horses while one of the cooks prepared a picnic basket for us to take.

In a very short period, John came back inside and said everything was ready. He had already packed the four-wheeler with food and drinks, and both horses were ready.

Susan helped me into the living room where I grabbed my crutches, then we headed outside.

Susan was leading the way when I heard her start laughing as she stepped outside.

"Daddddddddy????" she laughed, "you didn't?"

As I walked through the door and saw what she was looking at, I started laughing as well.

Strapped to the seat of the four-wheeler was a huge, fluffy pillow!

John started laughing as well, and said, "Well I thought he might need it for his leg . . . or maybe his butt is still sore!"

Susan helped me get on the four-wheeler, which was actually a lot more difficult than I thought it would be, then she and John exchanged hugs and kisses, and John walked over and grabbed my hand in his turkey size paw.

Then he leaned over to me, after making sure Susan was not in hearing distance.

"I know you love her Dennis," he said, "but be very gentle. She has secrets she doesn't think that Debra and I know about."

With those cryptic words ringing in my ears, Susan and I left. John stood in the yard waving at us until we were out of sight. And I couldn't help but notice that he was crying as we rode and drove away.

As we drove off, Susan put the horses in a fairly fast trot. I knew enough about horses to know they can usually maintain that pace for quite some distance, but was still worried about them becoming too hot. This was Texas, and it was the middle of summer. It was still early morning, but the temperature had to already be in the mid-90s.

As we were riding, we would have to stop ever so often so Susan could dismount and open a gate through barbed wire fences, then close the gate again after we were through.

Finally, about an hour later we stopped "so the horses can take a break," Susan said. Then she climbed up on the four-wheeler with me and gave me a kiss.

I asked her several times about Rosewood Canyon, but Susan just smiled and said I would have to wait and see.

Soon, she mounted up on the other horse, and we were traveling again.

Again, about an hour later we stopped for a break. During this leg of the trip I think we only had to stop twice for Susan to open a gate through a fence.

While we were letting the horses rest, I asked her how much further, and she said not more than an hour.

Soon I saw a fairly large cliff a few miles ahead. At least I thought it was a few miles ahead, but 30 minutes later it STILL looked like it was a few miles ahead.

About 30 minutes later we finally approached the cliff.

Susan walked her horse back to me and I killed the four-wheeler.

"It is going to look like we are walking into solid rock," she said, "but we will actually be entering what appears to be a shallow cave.

"At the back of the cave is a narrow tunnel. We will walk about 20 feet, then make a sharp left. Another 40 feet ahead we make a sharp right. About 20 feet beyond that is another sharp left and then the canyon.

"You will have to leave the four-wheeler, but we can walk the horses inside the canyon."

Parking outside the cave, I killed the four-wheeler, then started to take the keys.

"I don't think we need to worry about anyone stealing it," Susan laughed.

It actually took a lot longer to get off the four-wheeler, than it did to get on, but with Susan's help I finally stood on the ground.

"I really am thankful for the pillow," I told her. "My butt hurts!"

Susan took out a flashlight from the tool box of the four-wheeler, and I grabbed my crutches and followed. Susan said horses regularly used the passageway to get to the canyon, so the only real concern was stepping in horse manure.

Just as we were approaching the final left-hand turn Susan stopped and asked me to do something for her. I, of course, agreed, then asked what?

"Keep your eyes closed until I tell you to open them," she asked.

Susan positioned herself in front of me, and kept both hands on my shoulders. She walked backward until I could feel sunlight against my face.

"Open your eyes," she said, and stepped to the side.

I did . . . and gasped out loud.

It was incredible.

The canyon was not huge, perhaps a mile long, and about a half-mile wide. Cliffs rose on all sides for several hundred feet, and a small stream meandered through the canyon. On both side were plenty of grass for grazing for the horses, and I could see at least a dozen from where we stood.

"What do you think?" Susan asked, and I could see how intently she was studying my face.

"It is the second most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my life," I answered.

I saw a brief flicker of disappointment etch her face, and then she asked, "Only the second most beautiful?"

I smiled at her, then put my hands on her shoulders and moved her a couple of feet over until I could look at both her and the canyon.

"Now, the two most beautiful things I have ever seen are both in front of me," I declared.

Susan didn't just smile, she beamed!

Then she was in my arms, covering my face in kisses.

"You really mean it," she asked, "You really think the canyon is beautiful?"

I assured her that I meant it.

"In fact, it may take Debra and a squad of military police to ever get me to leave this place!"

Susan laughed, but then her face turned serious: "Hey, wait a minute! Don't I remember SOMEBODY making a second crack about my weight last night?? What was it, 'yea, not quite as heavy as Debra.'?

"Do you remember that?" she asked, with a very determined look on her face.

I assured her she must have been asleep and dreaming.

"Oh, No!" she answered, "I was very, VERY awake."

Soon we were both laughing, then Susan was kissing me again.

"Come on, let's head to the cabin and get you off that leg," she advised.

The cabin was only about 20 feet away from the canyon walls, and soon we were inside. The entire side of the canyon where the cabin was positioned was in the shade so it was actually quite comfortable inside.

The cabin was not large, perhaps 20 x 20, with a wood-burning stove, an old table with four chairs, a couple of large arm chairs, one large, large bed, and a set of bunk beds in the corner. I could see that there were curtains that could be drawn around the bunk beds, giving some measure of privacy from the rest of the cabin.

Susan asked me to start a fire in the wood-burning stove, while she went back for the food and water.

"A fire? In this heat?" I asked.

"Yes, a fire!" she retorted. "The only way we have hot water is to boil our own, and after three hours of riding horses in this heat, I need to clean up a little."



The Marine & The Beauty Queen Ch. 04



Shaking my head, I did as she requested, but made sure I opened all the windows in the cabin. The only water in the cabin was from a hand operated faucet with a long lever handle you had to push up and down to operate. Luckily I was familiar with those, and before long the fire was burning hotly and the water was starting to simmer. Lucky for me there was a nice cool breeze blowing through the windows so it was actually quite comfortable inside, even with the fire going in the stove.

About 20 minutes later, Susan came walking in with the picnic basket. Her face was red as a beet, her shirt was wet with perspiration, and she was sweating like a . . . well I've always heard it is impolite to say a woman is sweating, so let just say she had water pouring off her face.

"What the hell did they pack in this thing," she asked, "it must wear 30 pounds."

I thought she must be exaggerating . . . at least until I hobbled over and picked it up.

"More like 40 pounds," I said, then insisted she sit down to rest and cool off before going back for the drinks.

But I wouldn't be me if I didn't take the opportunity to tease her a little.

"You know, it's a darn shame you have to get out there and work that hard, sweating and everything, while I'm staying inside enjoying this nice cool breeze."

If looks could kill, I would have been dead meat!

"One more word, Jackass, and they will be operating on the other leg as well," she threatened.

I decided it was probably safest -- for my personal safety -- not to test her on that point, so I simply found a small hand-towel in a cupboard and walked over and starting waving it up and down trying to direct more of the breeze over Susan.

After 10 or 15 minutes of my waving the towel over Susan, acting as her personal fan, she finally stood up and said she was going to go get the rest of the supplies.

"Wait," I requested as I walked up to her.

"I'm sorry if I offended you with what I said about your having to work while I am staying cool. You really don't know how bad I feel about not being able to help you. Sometimes I let my weird sense of humor get the best of me."

She reached up and put her fingers against my lips.

"Dennis, you didn't offend me -- not at all. I am already getting used to you, and was just trying to respond the same way," she said. "I like your weird sense of humor. It's a little like mine."

I kissed her, and she kissed me.

"You don't know how glad I am to hear that," I said, "Now, do you think you can go a little faster getting the drinks back? I'm getting thirsty."

Then I smacked her -- very, very lightly -- on the butt.

"You JACKASS!" she exclaimed laughing, then started trying to tickle me.

We were both laughing, and finally I had to beg her to stop tickling me.

We kissed again, then she left to get the drinks . . . still laughing.

Susan was back much quicker this time, since the basket wasn't nearly as heavy.

Opening it, there were two six-packs of beer, a six-pack of 7-Up, a six-pack of Cokes and a six-pack of Arizona Tea. After a three-hour drive across the ranch, with the sun beating down, none were even remotely cool.

We debated the relative merits of which might taste best hot, or to be more accurate, which might taste the least bad while hot, before opting for a beer each. Susan took all the rest out to the creek and dropped them in, hoping the water would cool them off some.

Hot beer, on a hot day, is actually not quite as bad as it sounds. Especially if you are sharing it with the runner-up to the Miss Texas Beauty Pageant!

After we finished our beers, Susan said she wanted to clear herself up some. She found two large bowls in a cupboard, and put them on the table, and poured hot water in each, then began adding cold water to get it to the right temperature. She also found a couple of washcloths, and some soap.

Next she stripped naked, as unselfconsciously as I have ever seen anyone. She wasn't trying to tease me, didn't try to prolong it, just very matter-of-factly took all her clothes off, standing beside the kitchen table, and then proceeded to wash herself completely.

She washed her face and arms, then started on her shoulders and then dropped to her breasts. As the cool breeze blew across her breasts, her nipples began getting hard. Believe me, that wasn't the only thing getting hard in the room.

The entire time she was washing herself she never looked at me.

Once she was finished, the dumped the water in the sink, then wiped off the table.

"Let's see what food we have," she said, as she walked over to the kitchen counter top, still as naked as the day she was born.

She began opening different packages.

"Look, Dennis, we have ham, and this must be a dozen fried pork-chops. Are you getting hungry, Dennis?"

By now, I am standing up and have got most of my clothes off.

"Yea, I'm starving," I answer, "but not for food."

Susan finally glances over, and can't hide the smile covering her face.

She turns back around and continued opening packages.

"And here we have six or eight big steaks. You know I can warm all these up on the stove in just a few minutes. What would you like to eat, Dennis?"

By now I am down to my boxers, so I answer: "In just a few minutes I am going to have you spread-eagled, flat on your back on the kitchen table and I am going to be eating you!"

She again glances over at me with the biggest smile you can imagine. Susan doesn't say anything, but her face has flushed bright red, and I can't help but notice the flush continues all the way down to her breasts.

Susan turns back around and continues going through the food basket, pretending she doesn't hear me hobbling up behind her.

"Oh, look! We have potatoes in this container, and green beans in this one, and hard-boiled eggs in this one . . . OH!"

That final "OH!" was because I was now behind her and had reached around with both hands and cupped her breasts and immediately started flicking her nipples with my thumbs.

Susan pressed her perfect little butt back against me, and gasped again as she felt my erection slip between her legs.

I continued to gently squeeze her breasts and flick her nipples, and now I stuck out my tongue and reamed out an ear.

"Oh God Dennis. You know . . . you know when you are doing that . . . that I can't concentrate . . . can't concentrate . . . concentrate on f-f-f- . . . food."

I didn't say anything, just released one breast and moved my hand down across her stomach and abdomen until I reached her glorious pussy and slipped one finger inside her. I couldn't believe how wet she already was.

As she felt my finger entered her, Susan cried out, then spun around and threw her arms around me and was kissing me more passionately than I have ever been kissed before. Her lips and tongue were like things possessed!

After trying to suck my tongue down her throat, Susan finally stopped and gasped out: "Please, oh GOD please, make love to me Dennis. Make love to me again!"

I held her tightly against me, then said, "I would carry you over to the kitchen table, but I can't for two reasons."

Susan leaned back as her eyes narrowed and said, "If you say one word comparing my weight to Debra's, then I am going to take my horses, and my Daddy's four-wheeler and leave you here! Of course you won't care because you will already be DEAD and BURIED!"

I laughed, and said, "Oh, nothing like that. I was just going to say I was worried about leaving the food out . . ."

"The HELL with the food," she declared.

". . . and that even though you are still as light as a feather, I don't think my knee can quite handle it yet."

She looked at me rather suspiciously, but finally grinned and said, "Okay, you can live FOR NOW, but you better be REALLY good to me."

We walked over to the table, where she sat on the edge.

I moved between her legs, then started kissing her and brought both hands up and began caressing her nipples with my fingers.

She moaned into my mouth and began kissing me even harder.

After just a minute or two, I moved one hand down and cupped her mound and began moving my hand up and down. Susan gasped, then stopped kissing me long enough to cry out as I pushed two fingers inside her!

God, she was so tight!

With my other hand, I gently pushed her backward until she was lying on the table, then sat down on one of the chairs.

I pulled my fingers out from inside Susan, and leaned in and replaced them with my tongue.

Susan again cried out as I began licking and kissing her labia. Her thighs were resting on my shoulders, and Susan reached down with one hand, grasping the back of my head and tried to pull me even harder against her.

After only a few minutes, I moved my tongue upward until I reached her clitoris and began licking and sucking when Susan had her first orgasm. She screamed my name!

The night before, I had waited a few minutes after each orgasm, waited for her to come down, but today I was relentless.

I immediately pushed my two fingers back inside her, then again started licking her clitoris.

That first orgasm was immediately followed by a second, even stronger one.

I pushed a third finger inside her. Her hips began bucking upward, forcing the fingers even deeper and soon a third orgasm racked her body.

After Susan had her fifth orgasm, I pulled my fingers out, then stood up between her legs. I pushed her thighs forward until the calves of her legs were against my shoulder, then pushed my penis inside her, but only an inch of so.

I pulled back out, then pushed in again, but only an inch or so.

I continued teasing her like that for a minute or so until she finally cried out, "Stop teasing me! Please, FUCK ME, Dennis!"

I pushed forward slowly -- God, she was still so tight! -- until I was completely buried inside her. Then I pulled all the way back out, and pushed in again.

The night before, it had taken Susan quite a while to have her first orgasm with me inside her, but by the time I had pushed completely inside her today for the third or four time today, she screamed my name again as an orgasm racked her body.

I stopped until she had recovered again, then started long, slow strokes.

During the next 10 minutes Susan had several more intense orgasms before I could no longer hold it, and flooded her insides with my own cum. As soon as she felt me cum inside her, Susan had another orgasm of her own.

I don't think I have ever wanted anything more in my life than to just hold Susan at that moment, but I can't lean forward because of my leg, and she is still laying down flat on her back.

I finally managed to grab her arms and pull her upright against me, and her two arms reached around my body and squeezed me tightly.

This might sound ridiculous, but somehow Susan holding me . . . holding her body against mine . . . feeling her breasts against my chest . . . actually felt even better than my own orgasm.

I could have died a happy man at that point!

And little did I know just how close I was about to come to doing exactly that!

By now I had been standing up for 15 minutes, and even though I was trying to keep most of my weight on my "good" leg, sometimes I would forget and lean on my surgically repaired knee. I had also spent several hours riding the four-wheeler before that, and it was not the most comfortable thing in the world, and my leg was bounced around some.

The fact was, my leg was really hurting. It felt swollen, and felt hot.

I didn't tell Susan because I didn't want her to worry, just asked if she would mind if we just both lay on the bed for a little while so I could hold her. Susan, of course, agreed.

Neither of us were wearing clothes, so we cuddled together. Susan had her head on my shoulder, one arm across my chest and one leg across my stomach.

"Do you really like this place? The canyon and cabin?" asked Susan.

"It is the most beautiful place I have ever seen in my life," I said, "and the second most beautiful thing."

She smiled at me, and gave me a kiss.

"From the time I was a little girl, there is no place on earth I would rather be than right here," Susan said. "I loved coming here with my parents. Daddy built this cabin by himself."

"Wait, Susan," I interrupted, "mentioning your father reminds me. What was that this morning, with the hand thing?"

She smiled for a minute, then said: "I guess almost the earliest memory of my parents is sitting at the kitchen table. After they ate, they would put their palms together, then lock their fingers together.

"I asked my Mom a long time ago about it.

"She said that when you have two different people, you have two different dreams, two different ideas of what they expect in life, two different ways to doing things, two different . . . well two different EVERYTHING.

"This was their way of reminding each other that even though they were two, that now they were one. People do stupid things. People say things without thinking. And most often the ones they do the stupid things to, and the ones they say stupid things to are actually the ones they love most.

"It was their way of reminding each other that no matter what happens, no matter what angry words may be exchanged during the day . . . well they were still one.

"For Daddy to do that this morning! Well it was his way of saying that we -- you and I -- are now one.

"How does that make you feel, Dennis?"

"Happier than I can possibly say. Words are so simple Susan. It is easy to say 'I love you,' but that doesn't make the words true. What I saw, and what I felt this morning when we put our hands together . . . well that was beyond words.

I held my hand up, with fingers slightly apart.

Susan put her palm against mine and we intertwined our fingers together.

"I do love you Susan, and will always love you."

Susan told me she loved me also, and would always love me, then we kissed again.

"There are some things you need to know Dennis, and it would be a lot easier if you would just let me talk, let me say what I need to say my own way, without questions or interruptions. Is that okay?"

I nodded yes.

Susan then told me she had lost her virginity in this bed, almost two years earlier.

She had been dating the same guy for almost two years, and while they would fool around, do a lot of touching and feeling, there had not been any actual sex.

She had decided that when she did lose her virginity she wanted it to be here, in the spot she loved more than any other on earth. Even though she had been dating this guy for two years, she had never brought him here.

Then, when she felt it was the right time, they rode horses out and had planned on spending the weekend here.

"Even though he was an experienced horseman, he complained the entire way about the ride, then after he got here he continued to complain. He said the canyon was 'nice,' but didn't like the cabin because it was so primitive.

"He especially didn't like the fact that his cell phone wouldn't work out here."

They got into an argument, but made up, and eventually had sex.

"It was a disaster! A lot of pain, then 30 seconds later he was finished."

They didn't even spend the night, but rode back. Susan said she cried most of the way.

A couple of weeks later, he called and apologized, and asked her out, and she agreed.

For almost a year they continued like that, dating once or twice a month, and having sex once or twice a month.

"Last night was the first time I ever had an orgasm! I would hear some of my girlfriends talk about how wonderful sex was, and how many times they would have a climax and I thought they were just making it up.

"At least until last night!"

Susan said he would rarely use his mouth and tongue, never seemed to care if she really enjoyed it or not.

"Finally, when I found out my Mom had cancer and was dying, I broke it off."

Susan stopped and sat up a little until she could look at me.

"You know, don't you? You know what happened after the Miss Texas Pageant?" she asked.

"Debra told me yesterday morning," I explained. "She didn't tell me anything about what happened, just that you had been assaulted."

Susan put her head back on my shoulder, and was silent for so long I thought she had fallen asleep.

"There were two of them," she began.

Susan went on to explain how she had driven down to the college. Summer break was still going on, but she needed to finish up registration since she had been busy with the pageant.

She was taking a short-cut through a wooded area, when she was attacked.

They grabbed her, and when she tried to scream one punched her in the stomach, knocking her breathe out.

"One of them held a knife to my throat and told me if I made a sound they would kill me. But not before carving my face up."

The two men ripped her clothes off and each took a turn raping her.

Susan would start crying very hard at certain points, but all I could do was continued to hold her. I knew she needed to get this nightmare out in the open.

She had thought they were through, but then one again held the knife at her throat and made her fondle the other one, with her hands and mouth, until he was hard.

"Then he raped me again."

She was then forced to do the same thing to the other guy, but when he was hard he made her get on her hands and knees.

He raped her anally.

"I didn't know that such pain could exist," she gasped out, now crying non-stop.

At some point she blacked out, and when she came to it was almost night.

She found her clothes and purse, and called Debra.

"That is why . . . this morning . . . when I was washing you . . . I couldn't," she said.

"The demons . . . the demons are still there."

I continued to hold Susan tightly, and started telling her how much I loved her, and would always love her.

"Tomorrow night, when we get back to the ranch, I plan on asking your father for his permission to marry you," I told her.

Susan started crying even harder, and then said me she hadn't told me the worst part yet.

Again, she was quite for so long I thought she had fallen asleep, but eventually she resumed talking.

"Several weeks later . . . I missed my period. I didn't want to use the hospital, since Debra might find out, so I went to a private clinic. I . . . I found out I was pregnant," Susan said, in a chillingly cold voice.

Susan also explained that Debra, along with her mother before she died, and her father were all strongly pro-Life, and extremely anti-abortion.

"Under Federal law, the Navy Hospital at Corpus Christi is required to provide abortions, but Debra also refused to assist. She has gotten in trouble in the past because of it, but she was adamant.

"My father refuses to support any politician unless he is anti-abortion. I knew if either found out I was even thinking about an abortion . . . well they would go nuts. My father would probably disown me and kick me out of the house.

"I told them I needed to get away for a week or two and wanted to visit a friend of mine who had moved to Chicago.

"The part about the friend who moved to Chicago was true, and I did spend a couple of days with her. But the main reason I went to Chicago was so I could get an abortion.

"Only they botched the procedure. I ended up with an infection, and had to have a hysterectomy. I can never . . . Dennis, I can never have children."

By now Susan's body was racked with sobs.

"Susan . . . Susan look at me," I told her, but she refused to meet my eyes. "Look at me, Susan," I again asked.

She finally lifted her eyes up to mine.

"I told you that words are easy. But please listen to what I am saying.

"I love you Susan . . . more than I thought it was possible to love someone. I am not looking for a brood mare. I don't care if you can have children or not. We can always adopt if you want to. But I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to marry you and be with you . . . FOREVER."




The Marine & The Beauty Queen Ch. 04



I again held my hand up in front of her, with my fingers slightly apart.

Susan grabbed my hand with hers, like a drowning man would grab a lifeline.

"Are . . . are you an Angel?" she asked, and was smiling a little, despite the tears.

"You would be willing to adopt children?" she asked. "You would still want to marry me?"

I nodded, "Yes!"

"You are an Angel," she sighed very softly, then snuggled even closer to me and put her head on my shoulder.

Within a few minutes her even breathing told me Susan was finally asleep. And soon I joined her in slumber.

I woke up a couple of hours later, only I was now alone in the bed.

"Susan?" I cried out loud.

"I'm here," I immediately heard her answer and I breathed a sigh of relief.

I looked over to see her carrying a bowl of water over to the bed. When I looked down, I saw there was already one bowl there, along with some washcloths and soap.

Apparently Susan had been up long enough to start the fire again in the wood stove and had heated water.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Something I HAVE to do, and more importantly, something I WANT to do," she answered, then sat down beside me.

She reached over and gently took hold of my penis, but her hands were trembling.

"Susan, you don't have . . ." I began, but she interrupted me.

"Hush!" she said. "I told you this is something I HAVE to do, and something I WANT to do."

She wet one cloth, then put soap on it and began cleaning my penis and scrotum. I almost immediately begin to get hard.

After gently washing me for a few minutes, she rinsed out the cloth, and removed most of the soap. She wet the other cloth in the second bowl and removed any remaining soap.

She again grasped my now rock-hard penis, then leaned over and took the head into her mouth.

I gasped.

I could feel her tongue covering the head of my penis. I moaned.

She pulled off, then began licking me from top to bottom, and all the way around.

She again opened her mouth and took half my length into her mouth.

When I felt the constriction as my penis started to enter her throat, Susan gagged and pulled off.

"I can't believe how big you are," she said, then leaned down again and took me deep into her mouth. This time, when I felt me enter her throat she continued pressing forward until her lips were pressed against my pubic hairs.

She pulled all the way back to get a breath, then took me deep into her throat again, just a little easier and faster than before.

She continued for several minutes until I felt myself getting close.

I tried to warn her, but my words, if anything, just made her go faster.

"Susan . . . oh God, Susan . . . I'm about to . . . Susan, if you don't stop now . . ."

I could feel my balls draw up . . . and Susan did pull halfway back but started sucking on the head of my penis as hard as she could.

One of the hardest things I have ever done is not grab her head and hold her there, but instinctively I knew that would be the wrong thing to do.

With a final shouted, "Susan!" I erupted inside her mouth.

She immediately began swallowing, and continued sucking on me until I was flaccid before finally releasing me from her mouth.

I immediately held my arms up and she shifted upward until she was resting her head on my chest.

I pulled her up some more and tried to kiss her, but Susan turned her head away.

Now, I did grab her face between my hands and forced her lips against mine. I could see the surprise in her eyes as my tongue entered her mouth.

I could taste me, in her mouth, but I didn't care. Soon we were exchanging a deep, deep kiss.

"I can't believe you kissed me," she said, after we stopped to catch our breath. "Todd, my ex- would never kiss me after . . . you know."

"Todd didn't love you like I love you," I told her.

"I know," she said, "I know. No one has EVER loved me like you do," then kissed me again.

"How is your leg," Susan eventually asked, and I told her that my leg actually felt much better. And it did.

What I did not tell her was that almost everything else hurt. My other knee, my back, my shoulders, my hips, even my elbows. And I had a headache. A really bad headache.

I blamed it from sleeping on a new bed, one I wasn't used to sleeping on.

Later, when Susan asked if I felt like exploring the canyon a little, I said sure, and soon we had dressed and Susan and I were walking outside. Well, I was hobbling around on the crutches.

I was like a kid with a new toy. I loved everything I saw, and I could see the joy in Susan's eyes as she watched me fall in love with something she had always loved.

After an hour or so, though, Susan again asked how I felt, saying I looked a little pale.

Again, I did not tell her the truth. The fact was, I felt bad. Everything was hurting even more, but I just told her I wasn't used to such extreme physical exertion, such as her bedroom last night, the kitchen table this morning and the bed in the cabin earlier in the afternoon.

Susan, bless her heart, blushed crimson red. God, she is so beautiful when she blushes!

Then she told me I had better get used to it, because this was just the start! And blushed even more! 



The Marine & The Beauty Queen Ch. 05



We made our way back to the cabin, then Susan went back out to the creek to get some of the canned drinks she had put in the creek to cool. No sooner had she left than I grabbed her medical kit and found a bottle of aspirin. I shook two out, then as a blinding bolt of pain went through my head, shook out two more, then another.

I dry-swallowed all five pills.

When Susan came back, she suggested I lay down for a rest while she warmed up some food. I actually think I dozed off for about 15 minutes, and when she woke me up I felt much better. The headache was now just a dull pain, and my joints felt better.

Although I wasn't really hungry, I forced myself to eat most of a steak, and a pork chop, along with some potatoes. I was almost ravenously thirsty, and quickly downed two cokes and a beer. God, beer tastes so much better when it is cold!

Susan was standing at the sink, cleaning up the dishes when I hobbled up behind her, reached around and started unbuttoning her blouse. I slipped a hand inside and cupped her breast (she wasn't wearing a bra), and started playing with her nipple.

She turned around and reached down and started rubbing my penis through my shorts. A few minutes later we were both naked, and back in bed and Susan was on top with my penis buried inside her. This time, she held me while she lowered herself onto me.

By the time I had cum, Susan must have had four or five orgasms, and just collapsed on top of me with her breasts pressed against my chest.

Soon, Susan was snoring gently into my ear. I thought it was so sweet to hear her snore!

Before long, I joined her in slumber.

I woke up about an hour later with the most incredible sensation! As I looked down, Susan was kneeling beside me, with my now hard penis deep in her mouth. Her beautiful tight butt was just a few inches away from my shoulder, so I took one hand and started rubbing her between her legs.

She moaned. I reached out with my other hand and moved her thigh over to the other side of my head, and soon my tongue was deep inside her as well.

We 69'ed until we both had incredible orgasms.

Susan again lay down beside me, with her head on my shoulder and we drifted off to sleep together.

We slept for about two hours, and when we woke up it was nearly 8 pm. Susan got up and started the fire again, and closed the windows. It was getting a little chilly, and the fire quickly heated up the room. Susan again washed herself in front of me, then dumped the water and refilled both bowls before she had me walk over to the table when she washed me completely.

Unlike early this morning, this time she did not hesitate to wash all of me, and was soon sucking me deep into her throat. I soon filled her mouth with cum, then had Susan back up on the table where I tried to bring her just as pleasure as she had brought to me. After she had a half-dozen orgasms I was hard again, and I was deep inside her making love once more.

By now, it was about 10 pm on Saturday night and Susan and I went back to bed.

That was pretty much the last thing I remember until I woke up back in the hospital.

I was alone in the room, and I had IV's in both arms, I could feel a catheter in my penis, and my right leg was elevated, in traction, about six inches off the bed. I lay there, trying to make sense of how I had gotten back here, and what was going on, but finally decided to simply buzz for a nurse.

It couldn't have been more than 15 or 20 seconds before the door burst open and two nurses rushed in. One of the nurses was Debra.

"Thank God, you're awake," Debra said.

I tried to talk, but my throat was so dry I couldn't speak. Debra poured some water for me, then held the cup while I drank through a straw.

"What . . . What is going on Debra?" I finally managed to ask.

"Well, obviously you know who I am, and I assume you know where you are?" Debra asked.

"Yes, hospital, Corpus Christi," I answered.

"Do you know what day it is?" she asked.

I thought for a minute. The last thing I remembered was falling asleep with Susan Saturday night.

"Uh, Sunday?" I ventured.

"Today is Wednesday," Debra answered. "You have been unconscious since Sunday."

Four days? I had been unconscious for four days?

Suddenly I panicked!

"Susan! Where's Susan?" I cried out, trying to struggle to sit up.

Debra and the other nurse both had to push me back down, and I didn't stop struggling until Debra told me that Susan was fine, and would be back in a few minutes. She had gone to her apartment to take a bath and change clothes.

I actually began to cry. For a minute I thought something had happened to her, and the absolute relief at hearing she was alright was overwhelming.

"I don't understand, what happened? How did I lose four days?" I questioned.

Debra explained that Susan had been sleeping, and dreaming she was in a sauna. Suddenly she woke up, and reached over to touch my face, and almost had to jerk her hand back I was so hot.

She jumped up, grabbed her medical kit and managed to take my temperature.

"You were registering 105 degrees," Debra. "106 can be fatal, and 105 can actually cause brain damage.

"That's why I was so relieved that you knew who I was, and where you were," she said.

"Susan ran some cold water and began putting cold cloths all over you. She also managed to get you to swallow some aspirin, and soon your temperature begin to fall," she continued.

Susan had checked my bandages and notice some blood on the bandages so she had removed those.

"Your knee was swollen and bleeding, and had some pus leaking out. Susan cleaned your knee and put fresh bandages on, then gave you a couple of shots of antibiotics. The antibiotics, plus getting your temperature down, saved your life."

"She correctly diagnosed that you had a staph infection in the knee, and while in rare cases staph infection can cause a high fever, she felt it was too soon for that high a fever to develop."

Debra continued that after the fever came down, I would alternate between being semi-lucid and moments of being very disoriented. During the lucid moments Susan found out that while in Iraq I had been struck by what had first been called Blackwater Fever, but they later found out was simply malaria.

"Yes, I had a mild case of malaria," I admitted. "At first I was amazed, since I thought malaria was something you only caught in jungle like conditions, from mosquitoes. Iraq was about as un-jungle like as you could imagine."

Debra said Susan correctly surmised that the staph infection had weakened my body's immune system to the point that when I became sick with a full-blown attack of malaria, it totally overwhelmed my system.

"I do have to say congratulations on one thing," Debra said with a grin. "Susan said every time you became disoriented that you started calling for her, and when she held you and told you she was there you started saying 'I love you Susan, I love you.'"

I didn't say anything for a moment, then grinned and said: "Well thank God for that. That I was calling Susan's name! Can you imagine if instead I had been calling 'Debra, Debra, I love you,' then Susan would have learned all about our ongoing affair!"

Debra's mouth actually dropped open, and for one brief instant the look of absolute stunned disbelief on her face was worth all the additional torture they would probably inflect on me once I started physical therapy again.

The other nurse burst out laughing like a hyena. At least until a now recovered Debra cast a baleful look at her, then the other nurse remembered that she had something else to do for another patient. She was still snickering as the left the room, and we could hear her occasionally laugh out loud as she walked down the hall.

Debra then turned her baleful look upon me and said, "I think we really need to check for possible brain damage!"

Then Debra smiled brightly at me (I had a sudden chill) and asked if I would be interested in saving the government some money?

Very cautiously I asked, "How?"

"When Susan comes back, just say something else about comparing her weight to mine. If she doesn't kill you outright, then I will finish off what little is left!" she declared with an evil grin.

"Susan . . . Susan told you about that?" I asked, very softly.

"She told me everything. EVERYTHING!" Debra answered, "including what you were doing when you said it . . . Mr. Super Stud!"

I could feel my face turn bright red.

"She told me WAY more than I wanted to hear, but at least it was better than seeing her crying her eyes out and blaming herself for almost killing you," Debra added.

"Susan is blaming herself?" I asked, and the shock must have been evident in my voice.

Debra explained that Susan kept saying that after four years of medical school, she should have realized my knee was infected Saturday morning, and not swollen from overexertion either during physical therapy, or from our activities Friday night. And how when she saw how pale I was, and how thirsty I was she should have known I was having an attack of malaria.

"I keep telling her that no one, not me, not a doctor, no one could have known, but she keeps blaming herself," Debra added. "The only time I can get her to stop tormenting herself is when she is telling me about how incredible you are in bed . . . or on the kitchen table."

"She said I was incredible?" I asked, with a huge smile.

"Oh God, definite brain damage," she exclaimed.

"Did you know that for the first two days she would not leave your side for a second, except to use the restroom? She even insisted on having her meals here. It wasn't until we had hospital security come in and threaten to arrest her that she would even go to the cafeteria. She has skipped school for three days now.

"Her father came in this morning, and when he saw her he threatened to throw her over his shoulder and take her to her apartment so she could take a shower and change clothes. I actually thought she was going to hit him she was so mad. He finally convinced her that if you woke up and saw her the way she was looking this morning, the shock would send you back into unconsciousness and even kill you.

"They've been gone for an hour, and should be back any minute now," Debra said.

Just about then, the door flew open and Susan entered the room, but she didn't look over at me.

Instead, she started talking to Debra: "What's going on with Charlene? She is laughing like a hyena, and every time I ask her what is going on, all she does is say, 'Debra, Debra, I love you,' then starts laughing even harder."

"Ask your idiot boyfriend there, because I am going to go kill a nurse," Debra declared, as she stormed out of the room.

As the meaning of Debra's words became clear to her, especially the part about "ask your idiot boyfriend," Susan turned to look at me.

When she saw me grinning at her, and I held my arms out, she practically flew across the hospital room.

She was laughing and crying, but most importantly, kissing me over and over and over. Of course, I was doing all those things as well!

Before long, though, Susan stopped kissing me, than a look of almost despair came over her as she started crying in earnest.

"You could have died. And it would have been my fault," she sobbed.

I tried repeatedly to tell her how wrong she was, but it wasn't until I grabbed her shoulders and literally shook her that she finally began listening to me.

"I didn't tell you that my knee had starting getting worse Friday morning. And I didn't tell you how much it was hurting by Friday night. And I didn't tell you how Saturday afternoon, when you asked about my knee and I said it was better . . . well it actually did feel better but I didn't tell you that my other knee was hurting, along with my hips, back, shoulders and even my elbows.

"When you said I was looking pale, I joked about it, but I didn't tell you how much worse I felt in all my joints, and I didn't tell you how much my head hurt. And I mean, really hurt.

"When you went to get the drinks out of the creek, I didn't tell you I took five aspirin. And after I woke up, I really did feel better. For a while.

"The fact is Susan, you saved my life despite my not telling you how I felt. You saved my life Susan. You! You did it, no one else."

Even though both Susan and I knew it was against hospital rules, she climbed into bed with me. Of course we had to be careful because of the maze of tubes running all around me.

"You scared me to death, Dennis. I thought . . . thought you were going to die," Susan said, tears still running down her face.

"From now on, if you know what is good for you, you will tell me EVERYTHING, even if you have a hang-nail," she said.

I told her I would, then I found myself drifting back to sleep, content because the woman I loved was with me.

We actually slept together all night. I later found out that nurses came in several times to check on me, but just let Susan sleep, knowing she had gotten virtually no sleep since early Sunday morning.

Thursday morning Debra brought breakfast in for both of us, and made Susan get up since the doctor would be making his rounds soon.

When the doctor came in, he checked my knee, then explained they actually had to reopen the knee to treat the infection directly, thus I would soon have to start my entire physical therapy sessions over again. As you can imagine, I was thrilled to hear that -- NOT!

After the doctor left, Susan filled in the details Debra had left out.

"I don't understand Susan. I weigh at least 70 pounds more than you. How did you get me through the caves to the four-wheeler? And how did you ever get me on the four-wheeler?"

Susan just shook her head.

"I honestly don't know," she said, "I just knew that if I didn't, then you were going to die. My cell phone wouldn't work that far out, and I knew you would die if I didn't get you back. I couldn't leave you there, because your temperature could have started going up again."

Susan said she did remember tying me to the four-wheeler, using rope from her saddle, looping the rope around my upper thighs. Then she sat in front of me, and tied my hands together, in front of her stomach.

She couldn't drive too fast, since I could still fall off despite the rope around my legs. And if I had started falling, I would probably have pulled her off as well. And yet, she couldn't go too slowly, since she knew how desperately I needed advanced medical attention.

The worse time was when she had to stop to open the gates. She was terrified I would fall off, and she didn't think she would be able to get me back on the four-wheeler. Once she had a gate open, she just left it.

By the time she reached the final gate, she was close enough for her cell phone to work, so she called her father and had him call an ambulance. She told him to instruct them I had both a staph infection, and was a recently returned Iraqi veteran, suffering from a full-blown malaria attack.

The ranch was so far out, by the time she was driving up, the ambulance was just arriving. They immediately started IV's, plus gave me much stronger antibiotics than Susan had in her medical kit. Susan rode with me first to the nearest hospital.

"I told them I was your wife, and a nurse, so they let me stay with you," she said.

I told her if I had my way, she would soon be both!

She laughed and kissed me. I think that meant she agreed!

Once I was stabilized, she then rode with me in another ambulance back to Corpus Christi where Debra had a team waiting on me.

The rest I knew.

When it was lunch time, Charlene the "other nurse" brought our plates in. As soon as she saw me, Charlene began to laugh, and when Susan asked her why she just shook her head and laughed some more.

After she left, I told Susan what I had said about 'Debra, Debra, I love you,' and our supposed affair. And about the incredible, stunned look on Debra's face!

Susan started laughing so hard she was crying.

"I can't believe someone hasn't killed you by now," she said.

As we were lying together that night, on the hospital bed, I suddenly remembered what John had said to me on the four-wheeler, as we were getting ready to go to the Canyon for the first time.

"Susan, do you remember when we were leaving the ranch, you were getting on your horse and John shook my hand then leaned over and said something to me?"

"Oh, yea, I meant to ask you what he said?" she answered.

I told her John said he knew I loved you, but "be gentle. She has secrets she thinks Debra and I don't know about."

Susan turned pale.

"You think he knows, that he and Debra know about . . ." she couldn't finished the sentence.

"About Chicago?" I deflected the answer and Susan gave me a smile of relief and nodded her head.

"I don't know. But you might have underestimated just how much they love you," I said.

Usually, by now, at the end of visiting hours Susan would leave and go back to her apartment and get ready for school the next day. That night, however, she slept with me again.

It was another week before I became ambulatory again, meaning Susan could push me around in a wheelchair. We resumed our walks and talks around the hospital.

By now, Susan had resumed her studies, but every day she was back with me by 1 pm.

Then one day, about three weeks later, Debra, Susan and my doctor came to see me.

To make a long story short, my knee would never be the same. Too much damage, even without the staph infection. And the Marines really didn't need men who could not physically perform their duties.

The Marines offered, and I accepted, a 30 percent disability. It took about a month to process the paperwork, and I continued my physical therapy. But finally the day came when I received my discharge, and was also released from the hospital.

I walked out . . . well limped out . . . of the hospital a freshly-discharged Marine, and a now-unemployed civilian. Not that I didn't have prospects.

During my final three weeks in the hospital, Susan would take me to the ranch on the weekends, and John and I started having long talks about the different farm equipment I had operated.

At one point he asked me if I had ever operated any heavy earth-moving equipment, and I explained that I had spent two summers after high school graduation working for a construction firm that cleared land, and graded it for Wal-Mart stores throughout the South. 

I regularly operated bulldozers, graders, back-hoes, compactors, etc. He started asking specific questions about some of the equipment and I explained as best I could remember.

The next weekend, when Susan and I pulled up, John had a bulldozer sitting beside the house. He had also constructed an obstacle course for me to navigate through, and had staked out an area about three bulldozer blades wide, and about 300 feet long.

My challenge was to make my way through the obstacle course, without tearing anything up, then level the ground in the staked area to a uniform depth. No inclines or depressions, and the most important thing was it be as flat as possible through the entire area.

I hadn't driven a bulldozers in several years, so John let me practice for a while. Apparently, I passed because John said after my discharge he wanted to have a serious talk with me.

One month after my discharge, Susan received her nursing degree. Two weeks later, we were married. When I was discharged, I received part of my disability pay as a lump-sum payment, plus got paid for my unused vacation time. And while in the hospital for the past several months I had spent virtually no money, so, with the addition of some savings I had, I actually had about $45,000.

Susan and I spent two weeks on a Caribbean cruise, then another week in Rosewood Canyon.




The Marine & The Beauty Queen Ch. 05



To tell you the truth . . . I liked the Canyon better. We went naked for most of that week, walking throughout the Canyon, and when we wanted to make love . . . well we did on the grass, on the bed, on the table, even in the creek.

After the honeymoon was over, I went to work for John's paving company, and Susan started working full-time as a nurse at the nearest hospital, in Thornton, Texas. I say nearest, but it was still an hour's drive from the ranch.

John's actual physical location for the construction company was also in Thornton, so it made sense for Susan and me to rent an apartment half-way between our two jobs.

I resumed taking courses online, and within a year received my bachelor's degree in business administration.

I quickly started putting in more hours on the job than any employee John had, but since Susan was also normally working 10 to 12 hour shifts it didn't pose any problem. Whichever one of us got home first would cook, and after we ate we would talk about our day for a while, then go to bed and make love.

But every morning, before either of us left, and every night, when we first saw each other again, we would join our two hands together and intertwine our fingers in our expression of love for each other.

And almost every single Friday afternoon, evening or night, whenever we finally got together we would head for the ranch, saddle some horses and ride to the Canyon. It rarely mattered if it was raining, snowing or how bad the wind might be blowing, we would ride to the Canyon for the weekend.

About the only thing that could stop us was hail storms, or tornadoes. 

During that first year of marriage, I think we spent 45 weekends at the Canyon. During the next year, I had a recurrence of the malaria, so it was only 42 weekends. During our third year, it was 46 weekends.

During that first year, I spent most of my time learning the business from the ground up. I pushed myself until I could operate any piece of equipment, and operate it better than any employee John had.

I was also determined to prove to myself that I was still as good as I had ever been. I actually struggled with the words, "disabled veteran," and "handicapped." My parents had always stressed that I could do anything I wanted to in life. That excuses were just . . . well, an admission that you really didn't want something badly enough.

Now, I could no longer run, which to a Marine is absolute second nature. Marines usually run mile after mile, but that was no longer an option for me. No matter how badly I wanted to run. And trying to pick things up off the ground was also very difficult since I could not bend the knee as much as I used to.

During the second year, I spent half my time running the equipment, and half my time in the office learning first-hand from John had to estimate jobs, and which jobs we wanted and which ones we wanted to avoid.

During the third year, I was pretty much running the company, with only occasional forays into the field.

Then John, indestructible John, the biggest, strongest man I have ever known died of a massive heart attack.

John, Susan and I had discussed that someday he would retire to his ranch. He also said one of his big mistakes was not making his wife the owner of the company. As he explained it, there was a lot of federal and state monies that were earmarked for minority-owned companies, and if his late wife had been officially listed as owner, he could have qualified for a lot of additional projects.

So it wasn't any surprise that, in his will, John named Susan as president, and me as chief operating officer. What was a surprise was the fact that he left Susan 75 percent of the company, with my receiving 25 percent? I had always assumed Susan would be listed as the sole owner.

Of course, none of that mattered since Susan and I were as deeply in love as we ever were.

Nothing could ever change that.

Until I left some papers at home and had to drive back one morning and saw Susan and the Reverend William "Billy" Thornton together.

And my life fell completely apart.



The Marine & The Beauty Queen Ch. 06



Of course when I walked out of jail with my attorney, I wasn't thinking anything about how Susan and I had met, and how happy we had been.

To tell you the truth, I was thinking about killing the Reverend William "Billy" Thornton.

My attorney finally sat me down and started explaining the facts of life to me.

As I mentioned earlier, he told me my one opportunity to get away with killing Thornton was when I caught him in the act of having sex with my wife. They would have labeled it a "crime of passion," and I would probably never served even a day in jail.

Now, if I killed him, it would be premeditated murder, and I would spend the rest of my life in prison. That got my attention. I had read enough about Texas prisons to know that was one place I did not want to be.

My attorney, Huntsell Boone asked if there was anything I absolutely needed or wanted from either our house in Thornton or the ranch, and it was something of a shock to realize that without Susan, nothing else really mattered.

"Go, check into a motel, and don't go near Susan or Thornton," Hunt advised.

The next morning, Hunt called to let me know that Thornton refused to press any charges against me. The last thing Thornton wanted was any publicity about what had happened.

I drove to Hunt's office, and asked him to file the paperwork for my divorce.

Susan could have everything, and I had him include a phrase in the paperwork that as soon as she signed, my 25 percent interest in Williams Construction Company would revert back to her.

I wanted nothing, no money -- nothing at all.

That wasn't quite right. I wanted my life back, but knew that was now impossible.

One thing John had insisted on when I began running the business during what turned out to be his final year. When John first started his business, he deposited all his earnings into one account, which was the same account he used for the ranch. He would write payroll checks for his employees out of that account, and also for all his farm supplies. All personal expenses also came out of that account.

That worked fine, until he was audited by the IRS and ended up paying thousands of dollars in fines and penalties.

After that, he had one account with one bank for his business. Another account with another bank for his ranch. And three more accounts at a third bank, one each for himself, his wife, and jointly.

Susan and I followed his advice, and followed that pattern. Of course Susan always knew exactly how much money "I" had, how much money "she" had, how much "we" had, and how much both the ranch and business had.

In the seven years since John died, the business had grown from doing about $10 million a year, to over $70 million a year. My salary as COO was about $400,000 a year, plus bonuses. Susan, as president, earned $500,000 a year.

Neither of us actually spent a lot of money, so most of that money, for both of us, went into certificates of deposit, and retirement accounts. Again, in each of our names.

Susan had inherited several hundred thousand dollars when John died, and we used that to buy a house in Thornton and paid cash. As far as I was concerned, the house was hers.

In the past three years, Susan had scaled back on her time spent in nursing, and worked more on the ranch, raising horses.

I knew that Susan really didn't need to work. The income from the ranch would more than meet her needs, and anything she made from the construction business was just excess. But now it would be someone else running that company, because I was through.

As much as I had grown to love Texas, well Texas no longer had a hold on me.

I asked Hunt to follow me as I drove the company truck to the construction office to turn it back in, then asked him to drop me off at my bank. I cashed in all the different certificates of deposit, and left with a check for well over $2 million. I had left plenty in my checking account for my next two planned purchases.

I walked down to the nearest truck dealer and bought the largest, most loaded pickup truck they carried, which turned out to be a Ford F-250. I paid cash, then drove to a camper dealer and bought a top-of-the-line Airstream travel trailer. One of those big silver things you see being pulled behind trucks. This one was 28 feet long, and had virtually every option you can name, including a wide-screen TV.

Again I paid cash -- well debit card -- then drove to a nearby RV park and rented a space and started learning about my new home.

Shortly after settling in for the night, my cell phone rang.

Susan! I hit ignore.

Then she called again. And again. And again.

Then I started getting voice messages from her, then as I continued to ignore her calls and voice messages, text messages. I deleted them all.

Finally I turned the damn thing off.

I am not sure if I got any sleep that night. Every time I would close my eyes, all I could see was Susan -- with Thornton.

At about eight the next morning, I turned my phone back on and had 27 missed calls, all from Susan, 15 voice messages and over 50 text messages. I turned the phone off again without checking any of them.

At nine, I drove over to the attorney's office and parked behind his office since I had my travel trailer with me.

I read over the divorce papers and signed them, then signed a power of attorney giving Hunt my permission to act in my behalf on anything having to do with the divorce, plus an additional power of attorney if he needed to sign any papers relating to ending my involvement with the construction company.

After I finished signing all the papers, I turned my phone back on, and now had a total of over 50 missed calls -- all from Susan. I didn't even check to see how many voice messages and text messages I had.

I asked Hunt if he had a hammer. He looked at me a little strange, but found one. I took out the battery, put the phone on the floor and smashed it.

I asked Hunt to mail the phone to Susan. Yes, I know it was incredibly spiteful, but I was still seething inside.

"What are you going to do now?" Hunt asked.

I told him to look out his window. He pulled the blinds and when he saw the trailer I told him that was my new home.

"Where are you going to go?" he asked.

"I don't know . . . but if I ever get there, I'll give you a call," and walked out the door.

I drove to Dallas, and deposited my check at one of the giant, mega banks that have branches throughout the United States, then waited a few days for my new debit and credit cards to arrive.

I've always heard that the fall leaves in New England are spectacular. It was still several months until fall, but I now had all the time in the world.

Over the course of the next two months I slowly made my way up the eastern seaboard, stopping when and where I wanted, and seeing anything I wanted to see.

The fall leaves in New England are spectacular. In fact I saw so many beautiful, awe-inspiring sights I can't remember them all.

But I knew, deep inside my heart, that none could match the simple beauty of a certain canyon in Texas. 

From New England I drove to North Carolina and spent a few weeks with my parents, then drove down through Georgia until I stopped in Florida where I spent the winter.

And during those first five months I would . . . well, I would fuck anything that wore a skirt.

Young, old, thin, fat, short, tall -- it didn't matter.

And I really didn't care if they enjoyed it or not. 

I wasn't abusive -- but I frequently wasn't very gentle either.

Some liked it rough, some didn't. I didn't care.

Not until one day while a middle-aged woman was putting her clothes back on while wiping her tears.

"You must have really loved her," she said.

Then when I glared at her, she gasped, "Oh my God . . . you still do. You're still in love with her."

I think in that moment I came about as close as I could ever come to killing another human being with my bare hands. Oh, yes, I had killed in Iraq. But with a tank, or with my M-16.

The only thing that saved her was that I was able to (barely) turn my back and just yelled for her to get out.

"I really feel sorry for you," she said as she left.

During the next three months I drove up to, and all around, the Great Lakes area, and again saw so many beautiful . . . empty spots.

During those three months I became almost celibate. 

I kept hearing those words again and again. "You must have really loved her," then, "Oh my God, you still do. You're still in love with her." And most damning of all, "I really feel sorry for you."

Rarely would I pick up a woman. And I would try to be very tender and gentle.

Next I spent two months touring throughout the mid-west. Again, rarely would I pick up a woman.

And one day I realized that when I did pick up a woman, it would almost always be someone who was tall . . . and slender . . . and had long dark hair.

By now I had been gone for over 10 months.

I drove to Oregon, and rented a camp site overlooking the Pacific Ocean.

I bought a laptop and started writing, determined I would expunge this hold Susan had over me.

I was angry, and I knew if I started writing and put my anger on paper I would realize the best thing that ever happened to me would be catching Susan with Thornton.

The first anger filled words I wrote were: "I have always heard there are three kinds of people in the world."

I wanted to put her betrayal on paper, but soon realized that it really would not mean as much unless I first told how much I had loved her, and how I thought she loved me.

By the time I started writing about John's sudden death, and his will, I knew it was perfect.

Could anyone . . . anyone . . . doubt how much I had loved Susan?

Now I could write about her betrayal. How she had nearly destroyed me. Destroyed everything in my life, destroyed our love, and destroyed how I was trying to build her company and her father's company. Destroyed all the sacrifices I had made to make her proud of me!

But something went wrong.

Somehow, when I wrote about how many times Susan and I had visited Rosewood Canyon during our first three years . . . well it started me thinking about how many times we had visited it after John died.

During that first year, without John's help and assistance I began working even longer days, and was soon working six, and later seven days.

I was trying to grow his company, and make Susan proud of me. And make people forget those hated words, "disabled," and "handicapped."

During that first year without John, I think we only visited about 30 times.

For year two, I think it was down to about 25.

Year three only saw us in the Canyon about 20 times.

The next year was about 16, and perhaps 12 the year after that.

Year six was maybe . . . three?

And the last year? It was always, "maybe next month." Only next month something else came up.

When Susan started asking about adopting children, I told her now "isn't a good time. Maybe next month we can visit an adoption agency." Of course, "next month" never came.

My 12 hour days became 14, then 16, then 18 hours.

I was driven to build John's company, and make Susan proud of me. That I was as good as I had ever been, despite the words, "disabled veteran."

It was with a complete shock that I realized that every day -- every day -- I would leave the house while Susan was asleep, and not get home until after she was in bed and asleep.

I could not remember the last time we had put our palms together and intertwined our fingers.

And I kept hearing that woman's voice in my head: "I feel sorry for you."

Six weeks after I had started writing, I got in my truck and . . . started driving.

At about nine o'clock one morning I called Hunt's office. When I told his receptionist who I was, she immediately put me through.

"Dennis, my God, I have been trying to find you for a year," I heard him say. "I have a check for two-and-a-half million dollars for you."

Completely stunned, I could barely stammer out a reply.

"What? What check? What are you talking about?"

"Susan sold the company for $10 million, and this represents your share," he explained.

"But I signed over my share," I said.

"Susan said her father would have wanted you to have it, and it is now yours. By now it is probably a good bit more, since I deposited into your old checking account. Even with the measly percentage amount they pay, it has to have grown."

"And . . . and I suppose Susan and . . . and Thornton are probably married by now?" I asked.

"My God, Dennis, where have you been for the past year? Don't you ever watch the news?" he asked.

When I told him, not really, he began explaining that when news got out about what happened, over 20 women from the church came forward all repeating similar stories involving Thornton.

They were having problems in their marriage, but when they enrolled in supposed marital counseling sessions, Thornton took advantage of the situation and instead of strengthening the marriage, actually seduced each of the women.

"He was a very slick, very professional sexual predator who used his position of authority to seduce these unsuspecting women," Hunt said. "The women really had no chance. One of the ironies was that the stronger these women were, the more likely they were to become victims of Thornton."

When Hunt began using words like "seducing" and "victims" I realized with a growing sense of horror just what a fool I had been.

I had also been seduced. No, not by any person, but by success, by my growing sense of importance, by being recognized as an authority in my now chosen profession. Money had never meant anything to me, but power, and the trappings of power did.

I had told myself for years that everything I did was to make Susan proud of me. Proud of what I was able to do with her father's company, how I could make it far more successful than he had ever been able to do.

As I listened to Hunt, I admitted to myself -- for the first time -- that I wasn't doing it for Susan, but for myself.

For the very first time I realized that part, in fact most of what drove me was to disprove those two hated words: disabled veteran. I was determined to prove to everyone that there was nothing "disabled" about me and what I could do.

And when he added the word "victims," I also realized that yes, Susan had been a victim. At first, a victim of two rapists, and at the end, a victim of a sexual predator. But in between she had been a far worse victim. She had been a victim of my ambition. She had been a victim of my inability to reconcile my mental image of myself with the words "disabled veteran."

By now I was crying.

"What happened to Thornton?" I finally asked.

Hunt said the board of deacons of the church kicked him out, so he had moved to Dallas. There he became an associate pastor of another large church, and a few months later began his marital counseling sessions again. But this time he seduced the wife of a very jealous man. When that man caught the two of them together . . . well he killed Thornton. Never served a day in jail, not in Texas.

"And Susan?" I finally asked, "I suppose she has moved on and remarried by now?"

"No, Dennis, she hasn't," he said, very softly. "It's a little hard to marry someone else when you have never been divorced from your first husband."

At first his words made no sense to me.

"What do you mean, never divorced?" I questioned.

"Susan has never signed the divorce papers," Hunt related. "She said she will never sign them until she can talk to you in person. Just for 10 or 15 minutes. Then, if you still want her to, only then will she sign."

"Why?" I asked, "Why does she want to talk to me?"

"She won't tell me, just says until she talks to you in person, she will not sign," he again said.

"How . . . how is she Hunt?" I finally got up the courage to ask.

"To be honest, Dennis, not good. She has aged a lot in the past year. Her black hair now has a lot of gray, and for a while she lost a lot of weight. At one point I believe she dropped below 100 pounds."

I was shocked. Susan was always slender, and only weighed 120 when we met. She later gained about 10 pounds and looked better . . . healthier . . . than ever. I couldn't imagine her losing that much weight.

"Where are you Dennis? Please, tell me, where are you?"

I could hear the concern in his voice.

I told him to look out his window, and when he saw me, my truck and travel trailer in his back parking lot, he insisted I come inside.

I told him I needed a few minutes to . . . to compose myself but then I would be in.

Ten minutes later his receptionist ushered me into his office.

What I didn't know was he used that 10 minute period to make a phone call.

"My God, Dennis, you look like you have aged 20 years," Hunt said when he first saw me.

I knew it was true. The past year had not been kind to me. My once salt and pepper hair was now only gray, and I was beginning to lose some on top. I had also lost a lot of weight, and was probably down to about 150. Gaunt would probably be the right word.

My limp was worse than ever, and some days I had to use a cane to get around.

Hunt and I talked for about 15 minutes, and he again told me much of what we had discussed over the phone, adding additional details. Then his receptionist came in and said, "Your 9:30 appointment is here, Sir."

Hunt told the receptionist to show the client into the office next door, and he would be there in a few minutes.

"Dennis, I learned a long time ago that you can tell a lot about a person if you can watch them for a few minutes without their knowing they are being watched. I had a two-way mirror put in his wall years ago. I can also hear anything being said in that room.

"Please, just sit here until you see me motion for you to come in."

With those words, Hunt slid back a curtain that I had assumed was for a window, and flipped a switch I assumed was for speakers.

I gasped out loud. Susan was on the other side.

"She's aged 10 years," was my first thought.

Her once jet black hair was now streaked with gray. She was so incredibly thin, and I doubted she weighed more than 110 pounds. As I saw her look around, I could see an almost haunted look in her eyes.

Susan was still beautiful, but when I saw what the past year had done to her -- what I had done to her -- I began to cry.

I saw Hunt walk in, and watched as they shook hands.

"I promised you that I would call if I ever heard from Dennis," he said, "and early this morning he called me. As soon as I got off the phone, I called you. Luckily, I saw your truck at the coffee shop, so I knew you were in town."

"How did he sound Hunt, how did he sound?" Susan asked.

"To tell you the truth . . . he sounded old. Old and sad and defeated," he said.

"He wants to know why you want to meet. You have to convince me, then I have to convince him," Hunt added.

Susan nodded, then looked down. I could see her shoulders tremble. When she looked up at Hunt, she had tears in her eyes.

"I want him to know how sorry I am for what happened. I want him to know how much I love him, and have always loved him. I know what I did is almost unforgivable . . . especially for a proud man like Dennis, but if he can ever find it in his heart to forgive me, I would like to give us another chance."

I was not feeling very proud right now, and had tears streaming down my face as well.

"I'll let him know, Susan, that's all I can do. The rest is up to Dennis."

Susan stood up to leave, when Dennis asked her to sit back down.

"I know this might not be the best time to ask this, but did I hear you are looking for a general handyman for the ranch?"

Susan sat back down and smiled a very sad smile, then explained that a couple of weeks earlier some horses had knocked down a section of fencing.




The Marine & The Beauty Queen Ch. 06



"The fence posts had dry-rotted in the ground," she said, "and when they leaned against the fence a long section broke."

Susan explained they had hundreds of miles of fencing, with tens of thousands of fence posts and all of it needed to be checked and any damaged or rotten posts needed to be replaced.

"It's not easy work, especially in the Texas heat, but it is not rocket science either. Plus there is plenty of other general repair jobs that are always needed around the ranch."

Dennis said he had someone in mind that might be perfect for the job.

"I used to think he was one of the smartest people I ever knew, but then he made some incredibly stupid decisions. Decisions that cost him everything that was important in his life.

"But I can tell you that he is hard-working, and as honest as the day is long."

Susan asked him when could she met this person.

"Well, first I have to warn you about something.

"He is an ex-Marine, and actually a disabled veteran. Has a limp.

"He also has a Silver Star from Iraq, and a Purple Heart."

I think I heard Susan gasp.

Hunt laughed a little, then added, "His late father was probably the best friend I have ever had, and he once sworn me to secrecy before telling me his son-in-law actually got the Purple Heart after being wounded in the butt."

"When can I met this ex-Marine with the butt wound?" I heard Susan whisper in a barely audible voice.

By the time Hunt looked up at the two-way mirror, I was already out the door and was opening the door to his other office.

I took a half-dozen steps inside, then said, very quietly, "Do you . . . do you think you might have a position for me at your ranch, Mrs. Osborne?"

I wasn't exactly sure what to expect, but the reaction I got was not what I was expecting.

Just a few minutes earlier, when Susan said she still loved me and wanted to give us another chance, my heart was soaring higher than the clouds.

But now? She didn't look up, just thrust one hand high in the air in what must be one of the most familiar signals traffic cops use world-wide.

The universal "Stop" signal.

My heart plummeted.

She can't stand to look at me, and doesn't want me to come any closer.

Crushed, devastated, I started to turn around.

But wait!

Could it be?

Could I be seeing what I was thinking I was seeing?

Yes, her hand was raised up in the "Stop" signal.

But her fingers were spread apart.

Slowly, very slowly, not even daring to breathe, I walked closer.

When I finally put my palm up against hers, she laced her fingers through mine and then Susan, my beautiful Susan was in my arms again.

We were both laughing and crying, and trying to talk to each other at the same time.

I was saying, "Susan, can you ever forgive me? I love you!" while she was saying, "Dennis, I love you! Can you ever forgive me?"

Then, we said it together to each other:

"I love you."

And again, "I love you!"

Then we were kissing.

When we finally broke the kiss, I leaned back slightly and said, "Well, Mrs. Osborne, you never did answer my question. Do you think you might have a position for me at your ranch?"

"Mr. Osborne," she answered with an incredibly beautiful smile, "I can think of two or three positions right now!"

And we kissed again.

At least until Hunt started coughing, then said, "Well folks, let's not forget that this is a law office. I think the best legal advice I can give you right now is GET A ROOM!"

Then he laughed and added, "I just remembered, Dennis has his camper, his big travel trailer in my back parking lot. GET A CAMPER!"

"You have a camper?" Susan asked.

"Yes," I said.

"I love camping," Susan said.

"I know," I answered.

As we started to leave Hunt's office, hand-in-hand, Susan turned around and had one more thing to say to him.

"Huntsell?" She asked, using his full first name.

"Yes, Mrs. Osborne" he said.

"If you see the camper rockin', don't come knockin."

A few minutes later, I had just unlocked the door to the trailer when I turned to Susan and put my arms around her. She put her arms around me.

"I would like to carry you inside, but I don't think I can -- for two reasons."

I could feel her claws start to dig into my back.

"No, no," I laughed, "I just meant that I don't think the door is wide enough for one reason, and I am afraid I might trip over the step for the second."

A few minutes later, the camper was rockin' and rockin' and rockin'.

EPILOGUE:

Five years later, Susan and I have one of the most successful horse ranches in Texas. Our quarter-horses are recognized as simply among the finest breeds available today. But if you want to buy a horse, don't come on the weekend. Every weekend, we saddle up some horses and spend Friday night, Saturday and most of Sunday at Rosewood Canyon. At first, just Susan and I. Then later, we started saddling up ponies as well, after we began adopting children. We've actually outgrown the cabin, since three children don't fit too well in a single set of bunk beds, and we plan on adopting at least three more -- or four -- or five -- or who knows? So I am adding a second room onto the cabin. But we plan on leaving it as primitive as possible. I am back up to 185 pounds, and have a 28-inch waist line. It is amazing what replacing a few thousand fence posts in Texas heat in summer can do to get you, and then keep you in shape. Susan is up to 128, and has never -- NEVER -- looked more beautiful. And every single morning, and every single night, Susan and I put our palms together and clasp our hands together. We are two -- but we are more than that. We are now, and will always be, of one heart!