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I've never really cared much about what society says is legal. If it's profitable, I'm down. Don't get me wrong, I have rules and scruples. I'm just a completely dedicated capitalist. If people want it, I'll try to find it and sell it to them. I don't sell people. I don't kill people for money, I'm rarely violent unless someone else is, and I don't steal from people that don't steal from me. I sell i*****l things, all sorts of things. I'm not averse to selling people pharmaceuticals if they want to medicate themselves. I stay away from the stuff that makes people desperate and crazy. Crazy people are likely to become violent. A little industrial espionage, pirated technology, moonshine and things like that. I'm your guy. I've never felt like i*****l meant anything except the government didn't like it, wanted you to pay them to own or sell it or had a monopoly on it. Intellectual property is a joke. How can you own an idea? That never bothered me. These days, it's hard to stay off the radar. There are cameras everywhere and if you use your cell phone or send an e-mail, the tax man cometh. I was meeting my boy JaMarcus downtown where most of the cameras were broken. He had a truckload of flash memory for sale and I was definitely interested. He knew a guy that worked for a major manufacturer who knew how to make it and wanted to go into business. He had a no-compete clause in his contract and his former employer got the cops to shut him down. Since he couldn't sell it in stores, he was looking for a market. I knew the market. I was a little early, or he was a little late. I sat in my truck and listened to the new Foo Fighters album. I noticed a little yellow Mustang pull up behind me about a hundred yards. A woman ( like girls in "szaab dot com" )got out and I saw her go around in back and open her trunk. She came back with a jack and I figured she had a flat. Being the gentleman I am, I got out and started walking back toward her car to see if she needed a hand. A group of young men was walking down the sidewalk and they started making a few comments. I wasn't close enough to hear what they were saying but it was evident that she didn't like it and she went and got in her car. They gathered around it and one of them started beating on the hood. I figured they were just some punks until one of them picked up a brick and broke her driver's window. He opened the door and tried to drag her out. She was putting up a pretty good fight, but it was escalating and I was close enough to hear them now. "White girl going to bleed a lot if you don't stop fighting," the guy in the door said. "You know you want this, baby." "Leave me alone," she screamed. They noticed me standing there. "What you looking at, white boy?" The one with the brick started walking toward me. "I think I'm looking at a punk that's about to make a big mistake," I told him. He stopped. "What you talking about, chump? I beat your punk ass. You better get on up out of here." "I don't think the girl likes you," I told him. "I think you assholes should move on down the street." "Bitch don't know what she likes. She like the big dick," he clutched his groin. He started toward me again and I eased my jacket open. He saw the .45 ACP in my holster and he stopped in his tracks. "I ain't going to argue with that," he started backing away. The one struggling with the girl wasn't paying attention so I pulled the .45 out, walked up and tapped him on the head. He collapsed and one of his buddies started feeling tough. "You a pussy motherfucker. I don't think you use that piece," he said. I used it and his shoe exploded. "Pick up your trash and move on," I told the rest of them. The .45 made a hell of a pop, and he was screaming like he was dying, but I doubted anyone would report it. "You a crazy motherfucker. You shot Jamal foot. This motherfucker crazy." They picked up their boys and beat feet, telling me what they were going to do when they came back all the while. I pointed the gun at them again and they shut up. I walked up to the Mustang and she shut the door. "I'm sorry, Miss. I won't hurt you. You want me to change that tire?" She was crying and her shirt was torn. "Please," she said. "I'll pay you if you will. I shouldn't be here. I was dropping off my friend from work and my tire went flat. I was going to change it and then those bastards came along. Thanks for making them leave. I can't believe you shot that guy in the foot. Are you a policeman?" I laughed. "No, you won't find many of Los Angeles' finest down here. You're right about you shouldn't be here. This is a bad neighborhood." I walked over and put the gun in the trashcan in case popo showed up. I slid the jack under her car. I loosened the lug nuts and raised it up. She got out after a minute and opened the trunk again. I heard her moving around and she came up, rolling one of those little donut spares. I looked her over a little. She didn't look very old. She was a tiny little thing, not much over 5 feet but she manhandled that tire and she had put up quite a fight earlier. "Thanks again for helping me," she said. "I'm going to pay you." "No, you're not," I told her. "I have more money than you. Besides it wouldn't be right to take money for helping someone." "How do you know you have more money than me?" she asked. "I have a job." "Yeah, me, too. What do you do?" I asked. I got the tire off while we were talking and she rolled the spare in. "I work at Victoria's Secret at the mall." "I've got eight hundred dollars in my pocket and maybe twice that in my wallet. How much you got?" "Well, not that much. Aren't you afraid to carry around that much cash? No, I guess you aren't. You've got a gun." "See, I can't let you pay me." "I'm Thatcher Morgan," she told me. "Hi, Thatcher Morgan; I like that name. I'm Riggins Sharp. I'd shake your hand but mine is all dirty." "I'm sorry; I've got some Germ-x in the car." "Wait till I get this in the trunk and I'll take it. This tire is ruined, Miss Morgan. You didn't get pulled over fast enough." "Damn, just what I needed," she said. I put it in and she leaned in looking for the hand stuff. I just stood there enjoying the view. She had a fantastic butt, encased in tight jeans. It was round and full and sort of apple shaped. She found the hand sanitizer and backed out. She caught me looking at her butt, but she just grinned. She gave me a few squirts and I rubbed it around. She handed me a rag and I wiped them off. "Miss Morgan, you shouldn't drive very far on that spare," I told her. "How far are you going?" "Twenty-five miles," she told me. "Well it should make it that far. You going to try to find a new tire tonight?" "No, I don't think there's anything open." "Well, you're wrong. There's a shop that's open late about three miles away. Which way are you going?" "Santa Barbara," she said. "That's more than 25 miles. How about I follow you over there to the tire shop, we get you a new tire and make sure you're okay?" "I'd like that. Thanks, you're a really nice guy, Riggins." "My folks raised me to help people if I could," I told her. "Drive me down to my truck and I'll follow you." I picked up my gun and got in. The tire shop was open and they told her it would take an hour before they could get to her. We sat in the lobby for a few minutes and she noticed a Wendy's next door. "Are you hungry?" she asked. "Starving, how about you?" "I was planning to drive through somewhere on the way home. I haven't eaten since lunch. Will you let me buy you a burger?" "I'd love for you to buy me a burger, Miss Morgan." She giggled. "Stop calling me Miss Morgan. My name is Thatcher. You said you liked it." "I do, but I didn't know we were friends. I only call my friends by their first names." "Well, you saved me from maybe getting ****d back there. You changed my tire and you're looking out for me like this. You seem like a pretty good friend to me. You're kind of old fashioned, aren't you?" "I guess so. I was raised in the Deep South by a Pastor. He wanted me to learn to be polite and I guess it stuck." We got our order and I slid into a booth. I was a little surprised when she scooted me over and sat by me. We were busy eating for a while and didn't talk much. When I finished my burger, I leaned back and ate fries. I looked her over and she was beautiful. She had a cute little face and the most amazing eyes I'd ever seen. They were violet, I swear, with the longest lashes I'd ever seen. The tear in her blouse gave me peeks at a little lacy blue bra under her shirt. She had dark blonde hair that she wore about halfway to her waist. She felt my eyes on her and she blushed a little. "Too bad about your window," I told her. "At least it's not raining. If you don't mind me asking, how old are you, Thatcher? I don't mean to pry and you don't have to tell me." "I know I look young," she laughed, "but I'm 18. I graduate from high school in two months. How old are you, Riggins?" "I'm 24," I told her. "Do you go to college? No, I guess you don't. You've got too much money for a college guy." "Actually, I do," I told her. "I'm working on a PhD from Southern Cal. I don't go every day and I have lots of time to work." "What kind of work do you do?" "I'll be a psychologist when I'm through with school. Right now, I buy and sell things." "What sorts of things?" "All kinds. I buy abandoned storage units and sell the stuff. I sell computer parts, software and some i*****l stuff; untaxed booze, weapons and cigarettes." "Well, you're honest. I can't believe you told me that." "I trust you," I told her. "You're not a policeman, are you?" She laughed. "No, I hear they don't come down here much. Are you a d**g dealer, Riggins?" "Sometimes," I said. "I sell weed sometimes. I buy prescription d**gs and sell them on the black market. There are lots of people that need d**gs but can't get them from doctors. I don't sell street d**gs other than weed. I sell weed to three k**s with cancer. Their doctor won't give them a prescription." "Will you sell me some?" "No, do you need some?" "No, but I get high sometimes." "Really? I didn't imagine you would. Me, too. You want to smoke a joint?" "Have you got one?" "Yes, I carry just one. That way I can eat it if a cop stops me." "Let's go outside and smoke it," she said. We sat on the grass under a tree between the tire shop and Wendy's and lit up. "Ever had a shotgun?" I asked her. "No, what's that?" I turned the doobie around and blew it toward her. She opened her mouth and sucked it in. Our lips were inches apart and I wanted to kiss her, but I didn't. "Do you think I could do that?" "Better not; it's getting short. I don't want you to get burnt." "Maybe some other time," she said. Now that got me thinking. She seemed like she was telling me I was going to see her again. I was thrilled, but didn't want to take anything for granted. "Would you take me to see a movie Friday?" she asked me. It was like she knew what I was thinking. This little girl was amazing. "I'd love to, Thatcher. Do you always ask guys out or is this the weed talking?" "No, I've never asked a guy out before. I haven't been on a lot of dates. It isn't the weed talking, though. I really like you, Riggins, and it seemed like if I didn't ask you, you weren't going to ask me." "I probably wouldn't have. I kind of thought you were out of my league. Good enough to change a tire and buy me a burger, but from kind of a different side of the tracks." "I guess you're right. Well, that didn't come out like I intended. I meant about the other side of the tracks. I mean, you're a smuggler, and I wouldn't ordinarily meet someone like you. I trust you, though. You probably saved my life back there. My parents are really good people and they're very religious. My dad works for Ford and my mom is an RN. They wouldn't let me date until this year. They don't expose me to anything they think would be bad for me. I trust them and I don't usually push the limits. I don't hang with the bad boys. I think you're really good looking, though, and I thought you probably wouldn't ask a girl my age out." "Well, I wouldn't ordinarily, but we're friends, right?" "Yes, do you think my tire is done yet?" She held my hand as we walked across the parking lot and the weed had made us giggly, her more than me. I offered to loan her some money to pay for the tire but she put it on a card. We sat in my truck for a while and talked. After we came down some, I got her number, gave her mine and agreed to pick her up at six on Friday. I went around and opened her door and she jumped down. I walked her to her car and she stood on her tiptoes and kissed my cheek. "Thanks, Riggins. I'll never forget what you did. Those guys were going to **** me at the least. They might have killed me. You're my hero." I put her in and she drove away. It was all surreal. I called my boy. He was a little put out because I hadn't shown. "Marc, I met a damsel in distress," I told him. "I can do business anytime. I want those jump drives. Deliver them to my warehouse tomorrow and I'll buy them if they work." I got the drives for a fair price. I mostly keep black market stuff in storage units. It's pretty easy to rent them under assumed names. If the cops bust one open, no one knows who it belongs to? I called my people and sold most of them in the first two days. I drove up to Humboldt County and picked up 300 pounds of high-grade weed. That's really the only time when I have my ass hanging out; when I'm transporting stuff. I was careful. I seal the weed in plastic just before I transport it. It's important that it not be in there too long. Then I seal the plastic inside metal propane tanks holding dry ice. I carry lots of furniture and junk to look like I've been to a storage auction, and Joe Trooper isn't usually willing to wade through all the junk when his dog hasn't alerted. I've been stopped carrying weed a dozen times, but I've never been busted. Crossing the border from Mexico is a different ball game. I won't do it. Of course, non-d**g contraband isn't a problem except for weapons. No one knows where you got it anyway. I just feed them the storage auction line and I'm on my way. I don't transport weapons. I have them delivered. I'll fill orders, but I'm going to drop them someplace in the city limits and the customer can pick them up. I own a store that I sell the storage stuff at and the right customers know that the good stuff isn't on the shelves. Oh, I do a thriving business selling legit stuff, but there's an elevator in my office behind a bookshelf that goes down to a basement. It's not in the building plans and I'm the only one that knows it's there. I sell weapons, military grade equipment, bootleg computer stuff and electronic spy type gadgets. I'm not a fence, so if you steal some jewelry, don't bring it to me. Like I said, I'm not a thief. I'd been writing my thesis and it was going pretty well. I was doing a paper on physical education for k**s with autism. I had a year to get it finished and it really wasn't pressing on me. I worked on it some; made a deal for some of the new Glock 9MMs and sold a guy a system to spy on his wife at home. He thought she was cheating, but it turned out he was wrong. Friday rolled around before I knew it. I called Thatcher and we were still on. She wanted to introduce "her hero" to her parents, but that scared me to death. I tried to talk her out of it, but she insisted. I've been around enough religious old people to last a lifetime. I thought the truck looked a little redneck, so I drove my car. I've got a black and white '57 Chevy that I drive for fun. It's built to run a quarter in the 11's and the interior is tricked out, too. I dressed casual nice, and when I pulled up in Santa Barbara, I was as nervous as a long tailed cat in a room full of vacuum cleaners. I figured that if they didn't like me, I was done. It was all for nothing. Her parents were really nice. I think they were a little uneasy because of our age difference but Thatcher had told them what happened and they couldn't stop thanking me. She kept her arm around me the whole time and that helped, too. I was robbing the cradle a little, but we met under unusual circumstances. We made our getaway and Thatcher loved the Chevy. Her Mustang was one of the new GTs and I could tell she was cool about cars. She slid over and leaned against me with my arm around her. I love bench seats. I took her to eat at Outback and then we caught the new Hobbit movie. She was a big fan and I liked everything I found out about this girl. She told me all about school. She was near the top of her class, wanted to go to UCLA and she was a cheerleader. She played trombone in the band and she liked art and math. I told her about my thesis, the store and what it was like to make a deal for an unregistered gun. She wanted to see the store so I took her over. She was impressed and wanted to buy a lamp I got out of a storage unit. It was a green stone mermaid that she fell in love with, but when I told her how much it was she changed her mind. She used the restroom and I packed it up and put it in the car. I took her down to the lower level and she was impressed. "Is all this stuff i*****l?" she asked. "No, you can own most of it; I just don't have a license to sell it." She handled the guns and I asked her if she wanted one. "It might come in handy next time you have a flat and I'm not around," I told her. "I don't know how to shoot, and Mom and Dad would freak." "I don't know, Thatcher. They seem pretty cool to me. I think they'd sleep better knowing you weren't going to be dragged out of your car and ****d. I'll tell you what: You take this taser, talk to them about the gun and if they say okay I'll hook you up." She was good with that. We sat on a sofa near the front window and watched the foot traffic and listened to music. I gave her a beer. She wasn't old enough and she didn't like it much, but she finished it. She slid over against me and put my arm around her. I hugged her up and she felt and smelled amazing. "Are you going to kiss me?" she asked. "I want to," I said. "Do you want me to?" "I've been waiting all night. I'm glad you're a slow mover, though; I'm sort of new at this." You couldn't have told by the way her lips moved. They were full and puffy and soft, and they were the sweetest lips I ever tasted. She had braces and they kind of got in the way, but it was a very nice and very long kiss. She moved around to straddle me and kissed me some more. I could feel her breasts against my chest and it was very sexy. They were small, almost hard little cones, but definitely there and definitely female. When she sat up, I could see her nipples trying to poke through her thin shirt. She obviously didn't have on a bra, not that she needed one. I wanted to touch one, but I definitely didn't want to scare this little angel away. "Will you go to the basketball game with me Tuesday?" she asked. "I'll make sure we do some cool stunts." "I'd love to. Is it a home game?" "Yeah, I'd love to show you off. Our colors are green and white. Will you wear something green?" I would have agreed to go naked. She wasn't done with me. The thought made my heart pound and I wrapped her up in my arms and squeezed her to my chest just to get the memory of the way she felt. It was getting late and I didn't want to worry her parents so they wouldn't let her go out with me again. I took her home and her folks asked me to sit with them at the ball game on Tuesday. They attended every one she cheered at, it turned out, and it was obvious they thought she hung the moon. I did, too, but some of that affection for her transferred to me and they were very nice to me.
I gave her the box with the lamp in it and left before she could open it. I had a great weekend, thinking about that Friday night. I got one of the team shirts on the internet. On Saturday, one of my boys called me and told me he had something. He said that they had been working on a government contract to develop some software and he had written the code. It was a program that could sort through social media, phone calls, texts, financial and health records, that sort of thing. It looked for certain words, numbers and key phrases. It was top-secret stuff the government didn't want people knowing about. He felt like we could get big money for it if we shopped it around. I thought it sounded dangerous. This is the kind of thing I hate. It's bad enough that they can track you through your cell phone, internet connection and GPS. Having all this capability just means there isn't anything private anymore. There's no area of life where we can just say, "That isn't any of your business." Fifty dollars will get you most people's life history. This sounded like a horror story. I thought about just telling him to give the story to a paper but the thought of all that money made me greedy. The last thing I wanted was for a bunch of spooks to be prying around in my business, but how would they know I sold it? I agreed to meet him Monday morning and we'd talk about it. His name is Wilbur Parsons and he's one of those guys that sit around typing on a black screen all the time. He was pasty white and I told him he needed to get some sun. I had met him four years ago when we were both sophomores at USC and you could tell he was going to invent artificial intelligence. He was a dedicated anarchist when I met him and he hated the idea of the government spying on people's private stuff. He was paranoid, skulking around like he was being followed. I told him that he looked suspicious just doing that. If he wanted to escape attention, the thing to do was act normal, not sneak around. He had a copy of the software but it needed more horsepower to run than any computer I had. I had access to a mainframe at USC and we drove over and checked it out. It did everything he said it did. They called it Mako, after the shark, and it ate through data like one. I agreed that it was quite a piece of work and that I would put out some feelers. This was going to have to be on the very down low. I went to Thatcher's house on Tuesday evening and they rode with me to the game. Her dad loved the Chevy, too, but he was a Ford man from way back. She kissed me at the door in front of her parents. They didn't seem to mind. She had to get there early, and she sat by me during the JV game. She looked amazing in that little cheer outfit and they did some routines that made me cringe. It looked like they might drop her twice, but her mom told me they did stuff like that all the time. She was the smallest cheerleader and so she was the top of the pyramid, the one that got shot five feet into the air on some of their tricks and it looked terrifying. She was obviously very flexible and strong. The team didn't play that well, but the opponents didn't seem to have a clue. Their offense seemed to consist of passing the ball around until they turned it over. Thatcher's team won, but it was an ugly game. She came up and stood very close to me after the game and I sensed that she wanted me to put my arm around her. I was happy to oblige, and she introduced me to several of her friends. I saw several of them whisper together after introductions and a couple said something to her I didn't catch. "What was that about?" I asked her. "Well, I don't know what the whispering was about but those two told me how hot you are." "Please, spare my blushes." "I think so, too," she whispered. "They're all jelly." I took them out for frozen custard afterward, and we made an early night of it. She had school the next day and I had business to get done. I asked her out again for Friday but she had an away ballgame. She suggested Saturday and I was good with that. Several years earlier I had got to know a Lithuanian k** that was going to USC. His dad was some kind of big deal with the government over there and I gave him a call. I told him what I had and offered to sell it if he knew anyone in the Government who might be interested. He promised to talk to his father and it was a waiting game. My boy Wilbur was nervous about holding on to the software, so I had him put it in a locker at the airport. They check them for d**gs and explosives, but this was neither and it was safe. He felt a lot better and left me alone after that. It was a usual week except for Saturday. Thatcher spent the day with me and I took her to an auction. She was fun to hang with, and we had a blast. I bought two storage units, and we had a good time poking around in them. She found a safe in one. We eventually found the key in a dresser drawer and it turned out to be full of jewelry. It was real and she squeaked with delight going through it. There was a platinum necklace with a big sapphire and several little diamonds in it. I made her stand up with her back to me and I lifted her hair and fastened it around her neck. I blew on the little wispy curls on the back of her neck and she shivered. I had to nibble on it then and she was ticklish. I turned her around so I could look at her and the necklace went perfectly with those eyes and that blonde hair. "I'm giving you that," I told her. "No, Riggins, it's too expensive. How much do you think it's worth?" "It's worth whatever I say it is. If you were buying it at a jewelry store, probably 3500 dollars. I paid 950 for this locker. I've already made ten times that. Are you my girlfriend, Thatcher?" She looked up at me and blushed. "I want to be." "Okay, then, I get to give you stuff. Those are the rules. Just kiss me and tell me you like it." She practically jumped on me. "I love it, Riggins," she whispered against my lips. "What are we going to do with all this stuff?" "We'll lock the doors, I'll call the guys that work for me and they'll come, pack it up and take it back to the store. They'll go through it, price it and put it out on the shelves." "Do you find a lot of jewelry?" she asked. "Some. I buy some from people who come in and need cash, too." "Are you like a pawn shop?" "I guess; I don't have a license, but people know I buy things. The government likes to make you get a license to do anything. They charge a lot for the license and they get to poke their nose into your business. The idea that someone might make a buck without them getting a cut gets their panties in a bunch. Do you know that you have to get a license to be a barber?"' "I guess I never really thought about it. If you didn't and people got bad haircuts, how would you control that?" "I wouldn't. People run around with bad haircuts all the time. There were a lot of them here today. If you get a bad one, don't go back. Why does that need a license?" "I guess it's just the government getting their cut," she laughed. "You have a different way of looking at things, Riggins. I like it." "I was taken away from my parents when I was twelve years old. They were farmers and very poor. My dad got a gig driving moonshine from Tennessee to Georgia. I was in the car when they were arrested. I never saw them again. That gives you a little different outlook." "I'm sorry, Riggins. I didn't know. Did you love them a lot?" "No way you could know. To tell you the truth, I was glad to get away. My dad was a mean son of a bitch. He beat my mother and me on a regular basis. Mom sampled too much of what they were smuggling. They put me in a foster home. The man was a Church of Christ preacher and his wife was a psychologist. They were very kind to me and tried to raise me right. There were no more beatings and they were teetotalers. They treated me like I was their k**. I try to follow most of what they taught me, but some of it is too hard for me. I was lucky that they took me in." "That's quite a story, Riggins. That explains a lot about you that I've been wondering about." "Like what?" "Well, you're a perfect gentleman; you have good manners, you like my parents and you're a smuggler." I laughed. "I guess that does seem like an odd combination." I took her to the pier in Santa Monica. I would have liked to take her to a club and dance with her, but she wasn't old enough. The way she looked, I knew they would card her. I knew a few places I could get her in, but I wouldn't take this beautiful k** there. She needed to stay innocent and I wasn't about to take her off the rails. We sat on a bench, ate ice cream and talked for a while and I asked her if she would go to my place. She was a little hesitant. I assured her I didn't have any plans other than to talk, listen to some music and maybe dance a little. "I'm sorry, Riggins," she told me. "It isn't that I don't trust you, but this is all new to me. It's a little bit scary. I need you to go very slow with me, okay?" "I'm crawling," I told her. "No pressure, baby. You run the show and decide what you want to do. If it makes you uncomfortable, let's go to your place. We can hang out with your parents." "No, it's okay. I know this must seem weird to you. The other girls you date probably can't wait to get you in bed." "Thatcher, I'm not dating any other girls. I have, but not since I met you. I won't until you tell me we're done." "Thanks, I won't either." She took my hand and pulled me up for a hug. "I can't wait to get you in bed either," she whispered. "It may take me a while, though." "Good," I said. "I'm in no hurry. I've never had a girlfriend like you before. Most women I meet are like most guys you meet. They aren't much interested in romance, just the bottom line. Not that I don't want to get to the bottom line with you, but the journey has been pretty amazing so far and I'm happy with that." She held my hand all the way to my place. She was impressed. I have a four-bedroom brick house on a corner lot. I've picked up a lot of quality stuff from auctions over the last five years, and I keep the place picked up. I have a girl in once a week to clean and she does a good job. I made nachos and we watched Peaky Blinders on Netflix. Some of the nudity made her blush, but it's a good show. I love the Nick Cave song they play in the credits. I put the album on after the show and we danced a couple of times. Thatcher felt amazing in my arms. Her little blonde head came up to my chest and it felt like she belonged there. We made out a little and I took her home. I walked her to the door and she stood up on her tiptoes and kissed me. "Thanks, Riggins, I had a great day. I have a home game again Tuesday and Thursday. Will you come?" "I wouldn't miss it for the world. I don't like those guys holding you by the butt, though. I don't get to do that." She laughed and pulled my hands down there. It was incredible, resilient and firm and round. I pulled her up against me and she kissed me again. "Bye, Riggins; I better go inside before Dad comes out to check." My boy from Lithuania called on Monday. He put me in touch with an actor who lived in Beverly Hills. He said the guy was a liaison with their spy agency and he was very interested. If we had what we said we did, he was willing to pay top dollar. He wanted to meet, but I wanted more cover than that. I told him I would set something up. I really didn't want to meet with anyone on this. I couldn't figure out how to stay out of sight and still get the deal done. I talked to Wilbur and he was more nervous than I was. I know a lot about computers. I finally decided that I was going to have to spend some money if I wanted to stay out of some federal lock up. I went shopping and found a used AS 400 running Unix for sale. I bought it and rented a storage locker under an assumed name. I got the mainframe set up and Wilbur came and installed the software. I bought a pre-paid phone at Wal-Mart and called the actor. He had an unpronounceable name so I called him Bill. I told him where to go and where he could pick up the card to get in to the storage unit. I walked him through the program over the phone and he took a bunch of screen shots. He told me to call him in a week and he should know something. I went to Thatcher's ball game on Tuesday. They shot the lights out that game and won handily. Her parents left her with me and we went to eat with some of her friends. They asked me all sorts of questions; how old I was, where I got my car, what USC was like, how I met Thatcher and what I did. I didn't lie about anything but I just stuck with the legit stuff. They were very impressed that I was going to be a psychologist. Thatcher sat very close to me and I think she was staking out her territory. I didn't mind being staked out at all. We gave one of her friends a ride home and she asked if I wanted to go up to a windmill farm by her house and talk. We did talk, but she spent most of the time with her lips tight against mine. We got in the back seat and she lay with her head in my lap and her feet out the window. Her legs were bare down to those little cheer panties and they were spectacular in the moonlight. She seemed to be losing her shyness with me. She didn't mind me looking or even sliding my hand along one smooth golden thigh. I didn't push it. I figured if she wanted to do more she'd let me know. "I wish I could be with you every day," she told me. "That's the trouble with dating someone you don't go to school with." "I'd like that, too, but it would be difficult. I guess I could take you to school and pick you up." "No, I don't want you to do that. It would take too much of your time. You can't drive all the way out here twice a day. I'll see you twice this week if you come to the game Thursday. I have a band contest Saturday morning. We're marching in Encino. Are you doing anything Saturday?" "Nothing I can't put off. Can I come?" "I can't ride there with you. The band director makes us ride the bus. If you came, I could ride home with you. Mom would have to sign me out, but I know she would." "I'll be there, then," I said. "How late are you supposed to be out on a school night?" She squeaked when she saw the time. I drove her home and apologized to her Dad for keeping her out so late. He was cool, but he made me feel guilty when he said it was okay, he just hoped Thatcher wouldn't be too tired at school Wednesday. I apologized again and assured him it wouldn't happen again. "Mr. Morgan, I like Thatcher a lot. I want her to do well in school and it was irresponsible of me to keep her like that. I really didn't know what time you expected her back. She didn't tell me what time she was supposed to be home. If you let me know what time you expect her to be home I'll make sure she gets here. I'm not blaming her, I should have asked." He laughed it off. "She really likes you a lot, too, Riggins. It isn't a big deal. The curfew is for her, not me. We don't care what time she comes home. We trust her and we trust you. We know you aren't up to anything bad. We'll adjust it after school is out and you guys can hang out later. We really aren't worried about it. Relax, I'm not getting on you." "I know, but I'm getting on myself. Thanks for being so cool, Mr. Morgan." I got her home on time on Thursday. I really enjoyed going to her ball games. I love high school basketball. I was a two-guard in high school and college. I wasn't good enough to start at USC, but I was in the rotation. I could always shoot. I discovered that Thatcher was an amazing athlete. She could jump out of the gym, land in splits and do back flips down the length of the floor. I discovered Saturday that she was a hell of a trombone player, too. Trombone looks like a tough instrument to play. I play guitar, but I know where to put my fingers because of the frets. There aren't any on a trombone, just the slide. I never heard her hit a false note and she never messed up the formation either. She had face paint on and her hair was done up in this fantastically complex braid. That little uniform was very sexy and she blew me away. I took her home with me and we changed at my house. We went to the beach for a while. It was cool so we didn't mess around in the water. The ocean isn't ever very warm until you get down toward San Diego anyway, and so we just walked down the beach and cuddled. I took her out to eat in the evening and we went back to my place. We sat on the sofa and watched a movie. She asked me if I would go to church with her Sunday. I hadn't been in ages so I agreed. I took her home and promised to pick her up at nine. Church was interesting. They had a very good pastor. He talked about pride and it humbled me. I took them all out to eat at a seafood place. We talked about the service and her mom asked me if I was a believer. "Well, yes and no," I told her. "I'll try to explain. I do believe someone made this place. I can't imagine the circumstances that would form Los Angeles out of a diffuse cloud of hydrogen without someone designing it that way. God looks like the only answer to me. I believe he's good. He's been good to me. He put me in just the right place to get parents that loved me instead of getting drunk and beating me." I told them my story. "He put me in the right place at the right time to help Thatcher when she was in trouble. I believe there was someone named Jesus that taught people how to live the good life. I try to live by his words. Some of them are too hard for me. I try, but I can't. My problem is, I can't for the life of me figure out why he'd be interested in someone like me, Mrs. Morgan." "Please, you don't have to call me Mrs. Morgan," she said. "My name is Rachael. I understand what you're saying. I'm glad you feel the way you do. I know you have doubts, but so do I. Anyone that doesn't hasn't thought about it. None of us keep all the words. I don't, James doesn't and I know Thatcher doesn't. I think God is interested in us for the same reason we're interested in Thatcher. We love her. When you love someone, you're interested in them." "Yeah, I understand, but Thatcher's lovable. She's lovely. What about the creeps that were dragging her out of her car? See, that's my problem. I'm better than them, but still not as lovable as Thatcher. I think God must be annoyed with me most of the time." Her dad laughed. "Well, Thatcher seems to think you're lovable. Rachael and I love you because of what you did for her and what you're doing for her now. I've never seen her so happy." "Dad," she objected. "I'm right here. You are very lovable though, Riggins." She snuggled up against me. Rachael smiled. "Keep looking, Riggins. I'm glad you're a believer. I wouldn't like Thatcher to be involved with someone that wasn't. When you figure it out, tell me how you did it." I looked at Thatcher. "Are we involved?" She laughed out loud at that. "I think maybe we are. How did we become involved, Mom?" Rachael hugged her. "I don't know, baby. Just don't get too involved too fast." "We won't," Thatcher promised. We managed to get through dinner without any more footnotes from freshman philosophy. I took Thatcher, and Rachael and James went to the mall. We went down to Hollywood and walked around. Just walking along with her holding my hand or slipping her arm around me, made me feel like the king of the world. We got a shake, sat on a bench and she chattered happily. She started telling me about her plans after high school. She was going to work at her Victoria's Secret job until college started. She had two scholarships that paid about half her tuition. One was academic and one was for music. Her parents were picking up the rest of her tuition and books and she was going to live with them and commute. She still wanted to save up some money so she could buy things she needed without breaking her parents' bank.
That got me thinking. She had mentioned wanting to spend more time with me, so I wondered if she might like to work with me. I didn't think she made much working for a store in the mall, and I pay the people that work for me well. I didn't want her working in the store in case we got busted, but she liked the auctions and I wondered if she might like to be a buyer for me. I asked her. She thought about it for a while. "I don't know, Riggins. Would it be weird working for my boyfriend?" "I don't know, either. I never had my girl working for me before. I don't want it to be. Maybe it's a bad idea." "No, I think it's a good idea, thanks for thinking of it. What would I do?" "I was thinking you might go to the auctions and buy lockers." "How much would you pay me?" "I could pay you by the hour, but that seems complicated. I was thinking about paying you a percentage of the profits." "What if I lose money?" "I don't think you will. You're too smart for that. I can tell you how I buy, we could go on Saturday for the rest of school and you could get familiar with it. I'll tell you what. How would it be if I paid you a salary? Let's say $1000 a week. If your percentage would be more than that, I pay you the percentage. If we make less, you get the $1000." "Jesus, Riggins, that's 25 dollars an hour. How can you afford to do that?" "If you buy right, we'll make that easy. If you work it every day and I pay you 20 percent, you might make five times that. I made $16000 on those two lockers we bought two weeks ago. That jewelry was a find." "I don't know. Let me think about it," she said. "I really like you, Riggins, and I don't want to screw that up." "Neither do I. You're something special to me, Thatcher." She squeezed my arm and I took her home. She went to three auctions with me on Saturday and I let her bid. She looked them over and asked me questions. My rule is not to bid more than I think I can see in merchandise. I showed her how to look things up on her phone. We figured out right away that she needed a better phone. I let her use my new iPhone and she hit it big right away. There was a locker with office equipment still in the boxes and she entered in some UPC codes. The stuff was pricey and no one else wanted to deal with it. She paid $550 and I sold the whole locker to one business for $22,000. We wound up clearing $33,000 for the day. I warned her it wouldn't always be like that. Sometimes you're lucky to make $500. We went the rest of school and she always bought smart. The store was blowing up and she made $16,000 over the next six weeks. That made up her mind and she was down. Her folks were thrilled and so was I. Her end was strictly legit and she was in and out of the store all the time so we got to spend plenty of time together. Graduation was just around the corner and I wanted to make it special for her. I talked to Rachael and got permission to take her to San Francisco for the weekend. I showed them the hotel receipts for two rooms, promised to take her to church on Sunday and that I would be a gentleman. They were good and we didn't tell Thatcher. They had also agreed to let her have a gun as long as she would take shooting and safety classes and get a permit. I didn't tell them that she was too young to get a permit. Her graduation was on a Friday and she was number two in her class. She made a little speech at the ceremony. She got a bunch of honors and it was a big day for her. I was elated that she mentioned me along with her parents when she was thanking people. She called me "my hero and my boyfriend, Riggins." I had a limousine waiting for us and it took us to a private airfield. She wasn't paying attention to where we were going and when I opened the door, she was surprised. "Where are we, Riggins?" "Your coach awaits," I pointed to the helicopter. She squealed and couldn't wait to go. Rachael had packed her a suitcase on the down low and I had mine. I loaded them in the chopper and we flew off. I told her that I had cleared it with her parents. When we got there, another limousine picked us up and took us to the Wharf to eat. We went to a theatre and watched a play. It wasn't a very good play, but she loved it. We rode the trolley back to the hotel and she came to my room after we showered and we smoked a joint and drank a glass of wine. She just had on one of James' old flannel shirts and pink socks. I was wearing shorts and no shirt and she rubbed all over me. She was impressed that I worked out. I've always power lifted and I have become pretty big down through the years. She explored all over me with her hot little hands and I pulled her in for a kiss. She straddled me and really got into that kiss. When she pulled back, her eyes were heavy lidded and she leaned back while I kissed her neck. She moaned as I reached her collarbone and that little hollow was silky and soft. She pushed me back on the sofa and looked down. She began to unbutton her shirt and I held my breath as all that honey colored skin was exposed. When she got to the last button she looked up at me. She pulled my hands up to the collar. I slowly spread it apart and it dropped to the floor. She took my breath away. Her skin was flawless. She didn't tan topless and she had a faint tan line. She was naturally honey colored and it was very faint. Her breasts weren't as small as I thought. They weren't large, but they were full little mounds and they sat so high they looked bigger. They fit her small frame perfectly. They were capped with little brown nipples, standing out and beckoning me. I reached out and cupped them in my hands. She leaned in and I ran my thumbs over the nipples, causing her to shiver. I pulled her in and captured one little nub between my lips. It grew rock hard and she groaned and shuddered as I sucked it in. She collapsed against my chest and she was all over me. I wrapped her up and ran my hands down to pink lacy panties. I cupped her cheeks, marveling at the feel under my fingers. She hunched closer as I pulled on her butt, letting her rub against my excitement. "Do you want me, Riggins?" she whispered against my lips. "More than anything," I told her. "I'm not going to take you, though." "Why not?" she asked. "Do you want that?" "Yes, but I'm afraid. I'm afraid I'll just lose control. I think I love you, Riggins." My heart swelled. This little angel thought she loved me! "Me, too, but I don't want you to be afraid. When you feel like you can lose control and not be afraid, then I'm going to make love to you until you can't walk. Until then, I'm just going to hold you like this. I'll play with you and do anything you want to, but I won't take you until you're confident enough in me not to be afraid. Will you sleep with me tonight?" "You mean just sleep?" "No, I mean stroke, caress, kiss, nibble and squeeze, then sleep." "I think I'd like that very much. You are amazing, Riggins. You know just what to do and say to make me not be afraid. I would have let you, you know." "Yes, I know, but I want this to be right. I think I love you, too, and I don't want to make one wrong step. Besides, I promised your mom I wouldn't corrupt you." She giggled. "Well, show me your bed and let's do some of those things you promised me." I took her to bed and that's what we did. She was amazing. I've never been with a girl that was as sensitive as she was. When I kissed her in intimate places it drove her crazy. Just kissing her neck had her panting and when I went lower to take one of her little nipples in and love on it, she went off like a rocket. She was so sensitive and so inexperienced that I was surprised. She had the tightest little body I ever touched. Every bit of her was as hard as a rock underneath but soft as a baby on the surface. She was so tiny that she made you want to wrap her up in your arms and protect her. When I kissed my way down to her hot little pussy she blew up! She shivered and moaned and tried to tear my hair out by the roots. She was so sweet and so wet I could have gone on for hours. She had a tremendous capacity for orgasm and she came so easily and so often that she was quickly a writhing wreck under me. She finally pushed me away and told me she needed to rest. We cuddled for a while and she went on her own journey of exploration. She kissed her way down my body until she could push the covers away and get a look at my cock. Her hand hesitantly touched it and then grasped it firmly. "Is it supposed to be this big?" she asked. I laughed. "I don't think you have anything to compare it to, baby." "I do have an internet connection," she said. "I always thought those guys must be freaks, but I guess they're sort of normal, huh?" "No, Thatcher," I told her. "I think they are freaks." "Well you must be freakishly big, too," she said. "I don't know how this can go inside me, Riggins." "You're stretchy, baby. You're stretchier than anyone I've ever met. You can do all kinds of split things that would break me in two. When the time comes, you'll find out you can do it." "Can I kiss it?" she asked. "I want to make you feel as good as you made me feel." "Well, it's only going to happen once for me," I told her. "Women are lucky. They can cum a million times, but men need to wait a while before they can do it again." "What should I do?" she asked. "Make love to me the way you would eat an ice-cream cone," I told her. "I'll cum very quickly if you just take it in your mouth and slide your lips up and down a few times. You've got me way down the road already. God, I could nearly cum just looking at you, Thatcher." She was a quick learner. I let her know what I liked and I knew this was going to be quick. The way I felt about her was a tremendous turn on, and the way she looked doubled that up. I warned her when I was about to cum and she looked up at me with those violet eyes the whole time. She choked a little on the volume at first and toward the end she took me a little too deep and gagged once. She kept at it though, making gulping noises and when she slid back up I could tell she wanted my approval. "Was I okay?" she asked. I squeezed her little naked form and kissed her. "You were perfect, Thatcher. I think I've died and gone to heaven." "I'm sorry I gagged," she said. "I'll do better next time." That nearly made me cry. There was going to be a next time! "Did you like it?" I asked her. "It was really sexy," she said. "I like making you feel good. 'Like' would be too strong a word for how your stuff tastes. I didn't mind it, though. I liked the way you looked when you came. It made me feel powerful. I'll do it any time you want me to. The taste isn't unpleasant enough to make me not want to do it for you." "Thank you, baby," I kissed her and we whispered for a while. She drifted off and I slept like a baby. Thatcher loved me and everything was right with the world. We went to Chinatown on Saturday and walked around sightseeing. We ate at a little hole in the wall I knew about that had great noodles. We went to Alcatraz on a boat and poked around the old prison a little. I took her to a dinner theatre and the play was a lot better there. It was a comedy and it was actually funny. We went to a blues concert at one of the bars and they let her stay until ten. We danced half a dozen times and went back to the hotel. I didn't ask her to stay this time. She just came in after we showered. I was brushing my teeth and she came behind me and played with my abs. When I was finished she led me to bed, dropped the shirt and crawled in. We played around until we wound up with her on top of me, my face buried in her hot little pussy and my cock in her mouth. We came together like a practiced duet and I held her close as we went to sleep. I woke up the next morning and was a little confused. I could feel a naked girl spooning with me and it took me a minute to realize it was Thatcher. I rolled one of those little brown nipples between my thumb and forefinger and she opened her eyes and moaned. "I told your mom I'd take you to church," I told her. "Great," she laughed. "You're m*****ing me in bed and then you're taking me to church." "Yeah, well not m*****ing smoking hot women that are naked in my bed is one of those rules I've never been any good at." "I'm not naked," she protested. "I have on panties." "No, you don't," I told her. "We took them off and I believe I see them over there on the table." She looked and I slid my hand down to tangle in the little patch of golden curls to prove it. She groaned as I caressed her and pushed my hand away. "Stop, Riggins, unless you plan to stay here all day. Let me get dressed. You better hurry, too." We caught a cab and I asked him where the nearest church was. He took us and it was quite a building. The pastor was a guy with a big smile, big hair and nothing to say. He was a good speaker, though. On the way to lunch she asked me what I thought about his sermon. "I think if he ever has anything to say he'll say it very well," I told her. She laughed for a long time. "He was immoderately pompous," she said. We got on the chopper and flew back to LA. She was pensive on the drive home. Her little blonde eyebrows were drawn together in a frown and I smoothed it away with my thumb. "Something bothering you, baby?" "Yes, I had a great time this weekend, Riggins. I don't want it to end." "Yeah, I know. Hey, who says it has to? I mean, we can't lie around a hotel all the time, but you're starting work Tuesday and I'll see you every day. If I'm not busy I'll go to auctions with you. We can go out two or three times a week now." "Yes, but I like sleeping with you. I like waking up in the morning in your arms." "I like that, too. Thatcher, but let's be real about this. You're 18 years old. I know you're an adult, but there's no way you're ready to move in with me. I won't marry you now, and I won't live with you either. I'm not an expert, but I'm afraid it would be bad for you in ways I don't even understand. I love you too much to risk that." She seemed a little upset about that. I pulled over and parked. "Walk with me," I asked. I put my arm around her shoulder and pulled her up close. There was a little park with a fountain and some benches and we sat on one. I turned her chin around with my fingers so I could look into those violet eyes. "Thatcher, you mean more to me than you can imagine. I've loved three people in my life: my foster parents and you. I never thought I'd meet anyone like you. If something doesn't feel right to me with you, I'm not going to do it. I'm not trying to upset you and I'm not telling you you're too young for me. You're perfect, you're sweet, you're innocent and I want you to stay that way. You're 18 and I'm 24. We've got the whole world out there ahead of us. Let's not hurry along. Grow up with me. I'm way more immature than you. Let me become the kind of man I want to be for you. I've got a lot of work to do. When you're ready and I'm ready, I hope you'll want to spend the rest of our lives together. What do you say, baby?" Tears were welling up and her eyes became violet pools. She crushed my lips with hers and flung her arms around my neck. "Everything you say just makes me want you more," she said. "You underestimate yourself, Riggins Sharp. You're more of a man than anyone I've ever met and I think you're absolutely right about everything. That doesn't make it any easier. I still want you, more than ever now." "Well, that's a relief. I thought you were mad at me." "I am mad at you. There's nothing more maddening than someone who's always right." I laughed. "I am right about this, but you can be right about everything else." I took her home and we told her parents all about it. Well, not all, but we hit the high points. We told them about the church and Rachael mentioned she had seen the guy on TV once. She thought he was too slick to be genuine. They all hugged me, even James, and I felt really awkward, but good. It felt like I was becoming part of their family. I knew they were all really close and I had never experienced anything like that. On Monday I called the actor and he was ready to make the deal. He offered me ten million and I told him I wouldn't take less than twenty. He offered me twelve and I told him the bottom line was fifteen. He agreed and we set up the deal. The money would be put in an offshore account and I would leave the program and the source code on the AS 400. He would check it out, locked in the locker. When he was sure he had the program he would send the money and I would let him out of the locker. I was taking the five million cut and giving the ten to my boy, Wilbur. I warned him not to spend that money for a while. "When this hits the market they're going to be looking for anything shady," I told him. "You having ten million dollars is going to look shady. Don't touch that money until they pin the blame on someone else. I'm not moving mine until I know I'm in the clear. You fuck this up and you're going to disappear. They'll torture you and kill you. I'm not screwing around here, Wilbur. These are serious people and if you lead them to me I'll kill you myself." He told me he wasn't an idiot. I knew he was smart but I didn't know about the not being an idiot part. He was a geek and geeks have an idiot streak to them. The deal went off smooth and I had more money than I'd ever had. I just couldn't touch it for a while. There were several big auctions in Desert Springs that Saturday and I got permission from James to take Thatcher and spend the night Friday so we wouldn't have to leave at three in the morning. We left Friday afternoon and cruised around locating the storage facilities. We ate all kinds of dates and she fell in love with the medjools. I got her a big box and we checked into the motel. I took her out and we got a good burger and watched a movie. It was still early and we watched TV for a while. She was very cuddly all day and when we were watching TV she got extremely physical. We went and got in the hot tub for a while and she had a red string bikini that was the closest thing to naked she could have been. "That's quite a suit you've got there," I told her. "Mom like that?" "She's never seen it and she never will," she giggled. "This is for your eyes only, Riggins." "Well, I love it and you can wear it all you want," I told her. We got hot and took a dip in the pool before we went back to our room. She wrapped a towel around herself so the bikini could stay just for my eyes. She took the towel off when we got back and went into her room. I showered and she knocked on the door joining our rooms. She had a towel wrapped around her and we cuddled on the sofa again for a while. She seemed a little pensive and I asked her what she was thinking. She stood up and I watched as she stood in front of me. She tilted her head to one side and let the towel fall to the floor. My breath went away. She was naked under the towel and she had shaved. She looked even more like a little girl with no hair. "Take me to bed, Riggins," she said. "I'm going to make love to you." "Are you sure, baby?" I asked her. "I don't have a condom. I didn't expect this." "I started taking birth control pills two weeks ago," she said. "I don't have many chances to sleep with you. I'm sure. I want to do it, Riggins. I want to do it every day, but this is special. I get to be with you all night and I want that for the first time. We can do it all the time, but not get to stay together. I trust you, Riggins. I'm in love with you. I know you love me, too. I wouldn't do this with anyone else. I'm going to love you forever and I want to give myself to you."
I got up and scooped her up like a baby. She was as light as a feather. I tickled her on the way and threw her giggling into bed. I tried to be slow and love on her for a long time but after cumming once, she was very impatient. She pulled me on top of her and positioned me where she wanted me. "I can't wait anymore," she said. "I need you inside me." She was dripping wet and the head of my cock slid easily between the lips of her pussy. When the head popped in she gasped and winced. "Oh Jesus," she moaned. "I don't know if... if I... Jesus Christ, Riggins, that's big! Don't move, baby! My God, I wasn't ready for that!" "Thatcher, it's okay," I told her. "I won't move until you're ready. You're a very tiny girl, baby. Do you want me to take it out?" She nodded with tears in her eyes. "Yes, just let me rest for a minute." I pulled back and she relaxed. She reached down and used the head of my cock to rub her clitoris for a minute before she put it back at her opening. "Okay, let's try it again," she said. I pushed the head back inside her and she had the same reaction. "Wait," she squeaked. "Don't take it out though. I think it hurts worse when you push it back in. Just stay there for a minute." I kissed her and bent down to suck on her nipples. I reached my hand down between us and rubbed her little clit until she started moaning and I could feel her hips beginning to make little motions. She was relaxed and I pushed slowly forward. She groaned and I stopped inside about three inches. She was panting and I stayed there for a minute, just bathing in her moist heat. When she was relaxed and moving again I gave her more. I had been expecting to feel her cherry when I went in, but she didn't seem to have one. I knew she was a virgin, but all those acrobatic things she did must have eliminated that barrier for good. That made me very relieved. She was having enough trouble without any added pain. The feeling of giving a girl her first cock is incredible. I loved this little pixie and being inside her for the first time was the experience of a lifetime. It took nearly twenty minutes to get as far inside her as she could take. There was still an inch or so that couldn't get in. She was very tiny and I was amazed she could take that much, especially the first time. I could feel the head of my cock bumping up against her very end and she was mine. "Are you okay, Thatcher?" I asked. Her cute little nose was wrinkled up and she had a little frown. I could tell she was uncomfortable. "Yes, I didn't imagine you would feel this big inside of me," she breathed. "Jesus, Riggins, you have a cock like a horse! Are you all the way in? I thought it was never going to stop!" "You can't take it all now," I told her. "There's a little left outside, but it doesn't matter. You feel so good, baby. I love you so much I think I'm going to burst. You're mine now, baby; don't you ever forget it." She pulled me down for a kiss and I could feel her breasts crushed against my chest. I palmed one and pinched the little nipple. She moaned and I felt her hand reach between us and explore our juncture. I think she wanted to see how much was left. She was beginning to relax and squirm around. "Hey, wiggly," I said. "Does this mean you want me to move?" "Yes, oh God yes," she moaned. I drew back about three inches and slid back into her depths and she made a cute little "oh" sound. She winced a little and the same thing happened when I did it again. After about twenty times, she stopped wincing and only the little sound remained. I increased the tempo and it seemed like it was too much. The little sound took on a note of panic and I eased into her and held for a moment. "Too fast," she panted. "It still hurts a little, Riggins. It's okay when we go slower." I was willing to go as slow as it took. We made love, slowly and sweetly, for fifteen minutes and she began to tremble and the tension built inside her little frame until I went faster again. She made no complaints this time and just moaned louder until she cried out my name and exploded. She came in spasms and shudders and I kept her there as long as I could. She was so sexy and so beautiful and I was so in love with her that I thrust deeply and spurted inside her. My toes were curling it was so intense and I ejaculated stream after spurt of ropey cum into that tight little pussy. I could feel our flesh meeting and when I looked down I was all the way inside her. She had somehow expanded a little and I hoped she wasn't going to be too sore. We kissed and cuddled for a long time, whispering little love words as we snuggled together. My cock deflated a little but it never went completely down. The feeling of being inside this incredible girl that I loved with all my heart was just too exciting. I was afraid I was crushing her so I rolled us over until she was on top. I ran my hands all over her exciting little body. She was just a little bundle of soft sexiness, muscled like a gymnast. I cupped her hard little butt in my hands, kissed her nipples and ran my hands up and down her back. She slid against me and I was hard again. We moved together and she sat up, her high little breasts bouncing, She rode me like a pony for a while until she was tired. I rolled us over and she lay on her side with one leg between mine. I used her incredible flexibility and lifted the other leg straight up in the air, over my chest and beside my head. I pumped into her and she came a thousand times. I had all kinds of stamina after already shooting off inside her and I just kept giving her more. She was panting and moaning, her face the most beautiful sight I've ever seen as she soared from one orgasm to another. There is no more beautiful thing on earth than seeing the face of the woman you love cumming in the throes of multiple orgasms. Thatcher was beautiful under any circumstances and doubly so as she moaned out her passion beneath me. It went on and on. I've never been with a woman who came so easily and often, and could sustain it for such a long time. I slowed my cock inside her