HOMELESS--Part 2 free porn video

CHAPTER 4

I usually spent around thirty minutes getting ready in the morning between washing, shaving, brushing my teeth, and dressing. I planned on a few minutes extra this morning because of Jennie. We were dressed, bed made, and out the door right on time. I knew from experience that Dr. Whitney’s office was exactly sixteen miles away. Normally, that would take me about twenty minutes to drive.

Unfortunately, at this hour there was always the chance of running behind a school bus and that’s exactly what happened. There was no chance of passing on the narrow twisting road. Finally, as we approached the South Carolina state line the bus turned off into a housing development and the traffic cleared. Ten minutes later we pulled into the parking lot exactly three minutes early.

Jennie, as expected had to complete several forms that were mostly blank because she had never visited a doctor during her five-plus years on the road and she couldn’t remember the rest. She had no records of vaccinations and had never received a flu shot or any other treatment. Jennie was called and she asked me to join her. “Please, Doug, I’m deathly afraid of needles.” I held her hand as we followed Jan into the office. I explained that we both wanted blood and STD testing.

“Then you’ll both have to give urine and swab samples. The urine must come at the beginning of your stream. Jennifer, I’ll need a swab of your vagina and Doug, I’ll need a swab of your urethra before you urinate. Understand?” We did. Jennie went to the lavatory while I gave blood. I stayed with her when she returned, telling her to close her eyes. That worked; she never felt the slight pinch. I went to the lavatory when she was finished. “Dr. Whitney will have your results next week.” I paid my co-pay and Jennie’s bill and we left. Two minutes later we passed the shopping center where I met Jennie only a few days ago.

There are dozens of restaurants in North Myrtle Beach so we had no trouble finding a place for breakfast. We had just ordered when I asked if she had ever played golf. “I played softball and soccer in high school, just like all the other ‘out of control’ kids did, but never golf, why?”

“I usually play two to three times a week, even in the winter. I wouldn’t mind having some company. If we went out in the afternoon it would be warmer and we could play without even keeping score. If you played softball I think you’d pick up on it pretty easily. You probably won’t be great, but neither am I. You’ll be part of a vast majority. I’ll need to get you some clubs and some golf clothes.”

“Special clothes? Just for golf?”

“Yeah, you’ll find them helpful even for daily wear. I have what’s known as a ‘wind shirt’ although it’s more of a pullover jacket that I take whenever I travel. It’s thin and light, but warm because it keeps the wind from penetrating to your skin. I also have a merino wool sweater that’s reserved for days in the 40’s. It’s really thin. I usually wear four layers—tee-shirt, mock turtle neck, the sweater, and a wind shirt. I have five, some heavier than others because the weather changes and sometimes they need to be washed. There are two big golf shops right down the road.”

“Isn’t this going to be expensive,” Jennie asked. I just laughed, smiled, and winked. I’d told Jennie the truth—I had pocketed more than a hundred million—much more. I had been offered more than a billion dollars for my investment program. I accepted with a few conditions—employment for the two members of my staff and my ability to continue using the program in total secrecy. In return I agreed to never sell it and to allow them unlimited use forever. I didn’t plan to live forever and I had no family or heirs. It was a no brainer, even for a nerd like me.

I was just finishing my pancakes when Jennie excused herself for the restroom. I paid the check and waited for her just outside the entrance. Soon enough we were driving south on US-17, the main road through virtually every town between here and Charleston. Five minutes later I pulled into the big parking lot at the PGA Superstore. Golfsmith was right across the street. “How do you know which one to go to,” Jennie asked.

“It really doesn’t matter that much. Their prices are virtually identical, but here they’ll fit the clubs to you. That’s important. I’ll explain that you’re a novice so the salesman will spend like forever with us. You’ll see.” I took her hand and led her into the big store. The one difference between the two stores was that this one also sold clothing and equipment for tennis. I had no interest in that. Sometimes I could barely hit a stationary golf ball.

Once inside I led Jennie to the area where she would be able to try various clubs. I wasn’t at all surprised that we were intercepted halfway there by one of the salesmen. These guys must work on commission. They were even more attentive—always had been—than even the car salespeople.

“Yes, you can help us. I want a set of clubs for my friend here. She’s a total novice.”

“Then I assume you’ll want an inexpensive set of clubs.”

“On the contrary, I believe that one should always have the very best equipment. Let’s see what you have then I’m sure she’ll want to try them out.” He smiled and led us to the back of the store where the ladies’ clubs could be found. They had a good selection from TaylorMade, Nike, Adams, and Callaway—all top brands. He showed Jennie how to hold the clubs using several types of grips. I always used an interlocking grip so that’s what I suggested to Jennie.

Apparently, the salesman agreed. “It’s the most popular and I find it helps control the club more effectively. He helped Jennie select a glove and we proceeded to the practice area. “These shafts will seem light to you. Don’t let that fool you. They’re graphite and they’re extremely strong. I’ve never even come close to breaking one of mine so you don’t have to worry about that. Now…here’s some advice—golf is a game of contradictions.” Jennie replied with a puzzled look. I’d heard all of this before. “Believe it or not, to get the ball into the air you have to hit down on it. It’s called trapping the ball—squeezing it between the club and the ground or, in this case, the mat. Next, if you want the ball to go far, swing easy. Swinging hard, or over-swinging, just gets your body out of rhythm. Only bad things will happen then like hooking or slicing and your distance will suffer, too. Just relax and swing in an arc. Ever play softball?”

“Yes, I played on our high school varsity four years.”

“That should help you—it’s basically the same swing except now the ball is smaller, on the ground, and not moving.” Jennie tried a few practice swings before actually addressing a ball. Her first few swings were weak, but then she seemed to get the hang of it. All told she hit five shots with each club before going back to the TaylorMade Aeroburner’s.

“I like the way this one feels, Doug. Is that okay?”

“It’s more than okay—it’s exactly right.” She tried several drivers and some fairway woods. Why they’re still called “woods” when they’re made of metal has always astounded me. Anyway, Jennie liked the TaylorMade there, too. Once we had the clubs we walked over to get a couple of bags.

“Why do I need more than one?”

“You’ll need a cart bag for when we play. It’ll help you organize the clubs and it’s big enough to hold extra gloves, raingear, plenty of balls, tees, and first aid supplies in case you get a blister or a cut. It’ll also have a compartment that’s insulated to keep cold water or Gator Aid. On the downside, cart bags are heavy so when we go to the range to practice you’ll want something lighter and easier to carry. I also use mine when I travel. She selected one in pink and the second in purple. They were both excellent bags so I was satisfied. I handed them to the salesman, telling him to meet us in shoes.

“Shoes?”

“Yeah, you can play in your sneakers, but they’re not waterproof like golf shoes and you can slip quite easily. Golf shoes have cleats.” She tried several, picking a pair that was more like sneakers than shoes. We bought two. Next: putters. I explained and Jennie tried a few on their putting green. After almost an hour she picked an Odyssey Works Superstroke—a good choice in my opinion. We spent another hour on clothes before buying three dozen balls and several ball markers, towels, and other assorted tools. My bill came to $3,427.16, not too bad all things considered.

On the drive home I told Jennie that I’d be away for the weekend. “I think it would be good if you came with me.”

“Where are we going?”

“Santee, South Carolina.”

“Where on earth is that?”

“I-95 runs right through the middle of it. That’s how we’re getting there. I’m getting a dog.”

“Why can’t you get one here?”

“I could, but this will be a special dog. Before you came to live with me I was there alone every day and night except for when May was there cleaning. I had a team of burglars break in early one morning about two months ago. The alarm went off and I grabbed my pistol. It’s a smart gun that requires my thumbprint to be fired. I shot one of them when he tried to knife me and the other ran. The guy lived, but he’ll be paralyzed for the rest of his life—the bullet went through his lung and severed his spinal cord. For a while I thought I might go to jail, but the DA decided not to prosecute. The one I shot had a long record of burglary and even armed robbery and the fact that he did cut my arm made the case one of self defense.

“I thought at the time that I might need a guard dog. Dogs are notoriously light sleepers and they have sensational hearing. I think a barking dog would probably scare most burglars away, besides you could always call the dog back. You can’t do that with a bullet. I’d like to have you with me so the dog will know you. We can take our clubs and practice. Then when we come home I’ll arrange some lessons for you.” Jennie leaned forward and kissed me. It had been a wonderful morning.

We stopped at the Farmstead Golf Links where I was a member and walked together into the clubhouse where I picked up a ticket for three bags of balls. For some reason this course puts their range balls into these neat nylon mesh bags which disappear at an alarming rate according to the head pro who is a friend. We redeemed our voucher for the balls at the bag drop and walked together to the range about 75 yards away. We were almost there when Jennie told me, “I can see what you mean about these wind shirts. It’s breezy here, but I’m warm—much warmer than I thought I would be.” I showed her what most people thought was the best way to practice—starting with a wedge and moving up to the longer clubs. She did as I suggested and before long she was striking the ball as though she’d been playing for years. She was a natural; I wasn’t. I could hit most shots fairly well, but every now and then…. Well, let me put it this way—golf is only one of the four-letter words I’ve been known to use often on the course.

After the range we walked to the putting green. It was mid-afternoon and it was deserted. I gave her three balls and told her to have fun. Fifteen minutes later I was just about to stroke a twenty-footer when I heard her shout, “YEAH!” She continued when I looked up. “That must have been forty feet…maybe even longer.” I left my ball to give Jennie a knuckle bump, but she jumped up to wrap her arms around my neck and pressed her lips into mine. “I’m having such fun. It’s hard to believe that less than a week ago….”

I stopped her there. “Let’s not talk about the past. It’s no longer important. Only your future matters now.” Leaning down, I kissed her again, but only a short one. “Back to work,” I told her as I patted her butt. It looked as good in her jeans as it did naked in my bed. We stayed until the weather turned cool then returned to my car to stow the clubs in the trunk. A minute later we were on our way back home.

Once there I showed Jennie how to clean her clubs. “I’m sure you’ve never watched golf on TV, but if you had you’d see that the caddie cleans the club after every shot. I play with some guys who never clean their clubs. It’s important to keep these little grooves clean. They grip and spin the ball. You’ll learn more about that when you take a few lessons. I think you’ll do really well. You seem to have a knack for the game. Next week we’ll get you out onto the course.”

“I had a lot of fun today, Doug. Thank you so much. Running into you was the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” What could I say? Absolutely nothing; she kissed me then, ramming her tongue down my throat. Man, could she kiss!

Anyway, I washed the clubs in my laundry tub and she dried them, returning them to their bags. We were done in about twenty minutes then I surprised her by removing her golf shoes and washing them. I finished by washing mine then we carried all her clothes into the house. I dropped them onto the bed and went to one of the spare bedrooms for some extra hangers. We showered quickly—no fooling around—and went back to the car to go out for dinner. We were both hungry, not having eaten since breakfast.

I debated driving all the way back to Myrtle Beach, but I had promised Jennie we’d go to Original Benjamin’s and I liked to think of myself as a man of my word. At one time I would have been forced to drive down Route 17 past light after light, probably being lucky to average 30 miles per hour. About five years ago a bypass was created—SC-31, the Carolina Bays Parkway—where the speed limit was 65, but the average speed was closer to 75. That was where I headed now. Thirty minutes later I pulled into the restaurant’s huge parking lot.

We were greeted by a “pirate” who gave us some cheap plastic bead necklaces. Just inside the door Jennie marveled at the model of the Queen Elizabeth. It must be thirty feet long and the detail is incredible. I gave my name to the hostess and we moved into the bar to wait until we were called. It was January—the middle of winter—and we still had to wait. Jennie looked at the sticker I’d been given. It was on my shirt. “Yellowfin Tuna?”

“Yeah, that’s how they’ll call us when they have table for us. It’s easier than calling a bunch of names they’ve never heard before. Margarita?”

“Yes, please.” I ordered and a few minutes later our drinks were placed on the bar in front of us. I dropped a twenty on the bar, leaving the change as a tip. Jennie and I chatted while we drank. She was really excited about our day. She had just asked me a question about golf when we were called. After reporting to the cashier we were led to our table, but not before our guide picked up a basket of hush puppies. Jennie and I sat and ate a few before going up to the buffet. I always ate the same things—cold boiled peel-and-eat shrimp on my first trip, crab-stuffed mushrooms, fried shrimp and fried scallops along with an ear of corn on my second, and several pounds of crab legs on the rest, usually eating until I could barely walk. Jennie went for salad and soup to begin, commenting as I fed her a large shrimp with cocktail sauce how good the vegetable beef soup was.

I realized then that I hadn’t thought to buy Jennie either a wallet or purse. She’d had no need on the road, but now they’d be essentials. Oh well, tomorrow was another day. I followed my usual routine, finishing after having eaten nine clusters of crab legs. Jennie wasn’t that far behind me, having eaten six.

We were back in the car when Jennie next spoke. “I don’t think I’ve ever eaten so much. I couldn’t believe how good the food was. Doug, I have to thank you for the best day of my life.” I sat there silent, unbelieving that such an ordinary day had been her best.

Finally, after almost a minute, I responded, “I’m truly sorry, Jennie. I keep forgetting how miserable your life has been, but I want you to know that I had a wonderful time, too. I think running into you was just as lucky for me as it was for you. You have so much energy and so much curiosity that I get a big kick out of watching you as you experience things for the first time.” I reached across the console to take her hand in mine. I knew she was grateful as hell, but how far did her feelings for me really go? I wasn’t ready then to tell her how I really felt. I knew I could easily fall in love with her, but would she feel the same about me? Only time would tell.


CHAPTER 5

We’d left the restaurant at 8:45 and the sky had become cloudy and overcast so the night was black as pitch when we passed through Calabash around ten after nine. The road forms a big “S” with a right turn that takes it down near the ICW and a left that runs roughly parallel to the waterway. We were about a mile from the house when I first noticed the bright blue, red, and white blinking lights in the distance. As we approached we realized the lights were coming from my driveway.

Sunset Beach has its own police force, but the majority of law enforcement is still done by the sheriff and his deputies. There was one car from each agency in the driveway as I parked on the front lawn. Of course, I was challenged by one of the town officers until I identified myself as the owner of the house. “What happened?”

“We got an alert from the alarm company. Your sliding glass door was forced open. Looks like they got some of your stuff. I’d like you to check and tell us what.”

“Doug, do you think they stole your computers?”

“No, they’re locked in place and the password is fourteen symbols long so I doubt they were able to gain access to my files.” We walked in to find a lot of vandalism—torn cushions from my almost new leather couch, marker on the walls, beer missing from the fridge. They’d also gotten my I-pad and a laptop I used for email or writing if I wanted to watch TV. There was nothing of value on the hard drive. I wasn’t foolish enough to put my billion dollar investment program on something so easily lost or stolen. However, that didn’t mean I didn’t have a nasty surprise for the thieves.

“We know this was done by kids. Real burglars don’t destroy furniture or write on the walls. We believe their MO is to knock on doors. If someone answers they ask for someone who obviously doesn’t live there. If nobody answers they break in and steal what they can. I sure would like to catch these bastards.”

“Then come with us to my office and I’ll show you where they are.” He looked to be confused, but he did follow Jennie and me into the room. “I’m a PhD. in computer engineering so I’ve taken my laptop and I-pad and made a few changes to how they operate. There’s a password, but no special password screen so if you don’t know about it you’ll open the computer, but also activate a GPS chip that I installed. I can pull up a map showing their location in seconds. Hold on a sec….” I activated the GPS tracker using the icon on my desktop. Initially, there were two dots—one red for the laptop and one green for the I-pad, but a minute later I had the latitude and longitude down to the nearest second. A map appeared when I pressed F12 and I was able to zoom in all the way to the address.
“Once they turn these on the GPS will continue independently whether the unit is on or off. Okay, 3746 Duncan Street. That’s just up the road on the left past that big pond with the observation deck.”

“We’re on the way. I’m sure we can get a full search warrant based on what we have. With our new technology the judge’s staff can send it to my vehicle and I can print it out right there. How’s that for service? Will you be home tomorrow morning? I’d like to send one of the day deputies over to fill you in. If we’re lucky we’ll find some of the other stuff they’ve taken, too.” We shook hands and they were gone less than a minute later.

“What’re we going to do about this mess? I can’t believe they were so destructive, Doug.”

“I’ll contact my insurance company first thing tomorrow morning. Well, maybe not the first thing, but early then I’ll call the painters and finally, the furniture company to get a replacement for the couch. Then I’ll need a fence company and I’ll have to postpone our meeting with the dog trainer. I probably should have taken more precautions, but as the saying goes—there’s no sense crying over spilt milk. I’m sure to get my laptop and I-pad back, but it will take time, unfortunately. Why don’t we just go to bed?”

“Good idea; I’m too stuffed to even think about dealing with this now.” She held out her hand and I took it as we walked together to the bedroom. We stripped and showered, but no sex tonight. I went to sleep quickly with a promise of a great blowjob in the morning.

I got it, too—first thing, exactly as promised and well worth waiting for. Jennie sucked me dry, leaving me exhausted again at 6:30. We rested together and rose at seven. I fixed a breakfast of bacon and French toast for the two of us. I would have preferred for us to be naked, but I half expected a visit from the law and I knew May would be here around nine--thus, my sweatshirt and jeans while Jennie wore a sweater and Capri’s.

We ate in the kitchen, looking out toward the marsh and waterway, a dozen slices of hot egg-soaked bread, a pound of crisp bacon, butter, and genuine Vermont maple syrup. I ate quietly, but Jennie was ecstatic. “Damn, Doug; this is the best breakfast I’ve ever had.”

“Thanks for the compliment, even if it isn’t true. I’m sure your mother must have done something right in the kitchen, even if only once.”

“My mother never made breakfast. She’s the reason why I can’t stomach cold cereal. I must have had frosted flakes a thousand days in a row then I had shredded wheat for the next thousand, besides don’t you know to never refuse a compliment?”

“I do now so why don’t we finish up so I can get to work?” We dug in, eating like we had last night. We tackled the dishes together and Jennie volunteered to make the bed while I got busy on the phone. My first call was to my insurance agent. He told me he would get the crime report from the sheriff’s office. Next I rang Sunset Painting. They were two brothers from New Jersey—Al and Joe. They were good workers and always showed up on time. Ten minutes later we had an appointment for Saturday morning. I had just ended the call when May and Le’andra walked in ready to work.

“My lord, Mistuh Doug; what on earth happened heah?”

“Burglary and vandalism…last night. Just work around it until the adjuster shows up. He should be here by one. Jennie and I will handle it if you’re gone by the time he comes. Okay? Good, now I have to make a few more calls so, please excuse me.” I returned to the office while they got to work.

My call went to a major furniture store in High Point, out in the western half of North Carolina. Lots of people think of it as the furniture capital of the world and they’re probably right. I spoke to a salesperson, giving her the invoice number from my order. She found it in her computer and told me I could have the order duplicated in ten days. They even had my credit card on file.

I was about to place another call when my phone rang. It was a sheriff’s deputy. I made an appointment to meet with him in an hour. He was actually early which was okay with me. “We got ‘em, Mr. Preston. They’re all eighth graders at the middle school in Shallotte. We busted the address you gave us at 11:00 last night and found your equipment and a closet full of electronics from the other jobs they pulled. I thought the kid’s father was going to kill him. They’re not poor. Dad’s a service manager at one of the car dealers in Shallotte. The kid—Duane Putnam—gave up his pals in a heartbeat. They’re all up in Bolivia in the courthouse. I understand the judge gave them hell. They’ll be held responsible for restitution on all damages.”

I couldn’t keep from laughing. “They might be able to pay my painting bill, but my couch cost $8,000. Besides, I have insurance that will cover almost all of it. If the insurance company wants to go after them—well, that’s their business.” We shook hands and I walked out to the deck to start the grill. It was Thursday—hot dog day—for Jennie and me, but especially for May and Le’andra.

My usual job with the dogs done I called Jennie, May, and Le’andra to the table. I poured four Pepsi’s while they prepared their plates. Like every other week, May’s and Le’andra’s were filled by the time I was in my chair next to Jennie. I noticed there was a tension in the air. In previous weeks the lunch was punctuated with lively conversation. Today’s was marked with a stony silence. I resolved to get to the bottom of it once Jennie and I were alone again.

May had finished by two so I took Jennie’s hand and led her to the couch. “Want to tell me what’s going on with you and May?”

Jennie lowered her head and turned away. “Oh…it’s nothing.”

I lifted Jennie’s chin with my finger then leaned in for a lingering kiss. “Okay, it obviously isn’t. Tell me about it. You know I’m here to support you.”

There was a tear in her eye when she turned to face me. “May told me I was a slut and a tramp because I was obviously sleeping with you, both figuratively and literally. She said it was bad enough when I was in the other room, but now the situation was intolerable. That’s what she told me—intolerable.”

“I have to agree. It is intolerable.” Jennie had a hurt and confused look on her face as I lifted the cordless phone from its charger. May was on the speed dial. A few seconds later I had May on the line as I clutched Jennie close to me. “Hi, May—Jennie tells me you have some moral issues with the way she’s living here with me.”

(I like you, Mistuh Doug, but that woman is causing you to sin. You all will be headin’ straight to the devil.)

“I guess this goes against your conscience.”

(It does, Mistuh Doug. It truly does.)

“Well, May I’d never want you to do something that goes against your conscience so I’m going to resolve it right this very minute.”

(Praise the Lord. Thank you, Mistuh Doug.)

“May, you’re fired. I don’t want you to ever come back. I’ll have to find another cleaning company—one that knows how to mind its own business. Don’t worry about my key. I’ve been thinking about upgrading my locks and now’s the perfect time for that. I’ll also change my alarm code. Thank you for sharing your thoughts May even though the entire matter is none of your concern. I’ll miss our Thursday lunches. Good bye, May, and good luck.” I ended the call before she had a chance to respond and blocked her number.

“That tell you anything?”

She reached up to kiss me before responding, “Yes. I couldn’t believe what she said to me. You’re doing something good—something really good—and all she could say was how bad it was and how I was going to burn in hell.”

“I’m sorry, Jen. That should never have happened. Let me get the phone book so I can find another company.” I retrieved the book from the closet and less than a minute later I was thumbing through the yellow pages. I found several and picked Blue Ribbon, only because I liked the appearance of their half-page ad. I was pleased when someone answered on the second ring. I set up an appointment for the following afternoon.

Jennie and I were kissing and touching each other and—truth be told—she had my cock out and had begun to lick when we heard the doorbell ring. “Damn,” she exclaimed. “Just when the fun was starting. I’ll get the door.” She answered and called back, “It’s the adjuster, Doug.”

His card said his name was Peter Malcolm, Independent Insurance Adjuster. He shook my hand and took a good look around. “Wow, what a mess. Was this an expensive couch?”

“You might say so. It cost me $8,000. I have the receipt in my office.” Jennie trotted down the hall, returning shortly with my file. I handed it to Mr. Malcolm.

“Do you have replacement value in your policy?”

“Of course.”

“Then you’ll get the full value for the couch plus the cost of repainting. I think they’ll have to prime the area again or these foul words will bleed through. That’s especially true since your walls are white. Do you have a copy of the policy handy?”

I did and once again Jennie was running down the hall. She returned with it in her hand. “Ahhh, I see you have a $1,000 deductible. I’ll estimate your painting job at $500 and your couch at $8,000 so your insurer will send you a check for $7,500. I’ll hold off for about a week. Let me know if your painting comes in at a higher figure. You might want to sue the parents for the money. I’m sure the company will. Well, I have another appointment. Keep my card in case you have to get in touch with me again.” We shook hands and he left, Jennie locking the door behind him.

“Can we resume where we left off?”

“Yes, my dear…we most certainly can.” I rose from the couch and took her hand. We walked together, kissing and groping each other, into the bedroom where our clothes fell to the floor like rain. Jennie pulled me down right on top of her with a laugh. We looked into each other’s eyes for a second then we came together in a powerful embrace and a torrid kiss that went on and on as our tongues dueled and danced. We rolled from one side of the bed to the other.

I’m only human and there was a limit to what I could endure without needing to be inside her hot tight cunt. Luckily, Jennie had shown an ability to read my mind. She rolled me over onto my back while pulling a condom from my night table. She had it unrolled down my throbbing organ in a flash then she slowly descended onto it, savoring the sensations of her tissues stretching around me. I’m not huge by anyone’s imagination, but I know I’m above average at just over seven inches in length and almost six inches in circumference. All I know is that in my limited experience I’d never received even a single complaint about it. On the contrary, my cock had received several accolades, even earning a blue ribbon from one of my undergrad conquests.

“That’s the part I love best, Doug—the part when you stretch the bejeezus out of my cunt.”

“If only May could see you now. Her conscience must be driving her crazy right about now.” I chuckled a bit before kissing Jennie again.

“Enough fooling around; can we get down to business now?” I nodded as I drove into her with force, lifting her bodily from the bed. We fucked in earnest now, forcing our bodies together with speed and power. Jennie was rubbing her poor clit raw in her desire to cum. She spread her legs even farther, forcing her clit from its hood then her eyes became as big as saucers as the sensations overcame her. She screamed at the top of her lungs as her body shook and for our first time—squirted, covering my abdomen in her aromatic juice. Finally, totally exhausted, she collapsed onto my body. I held her tightly, thinking to myself, “I love you.”


CHAPTER 6

The one good thing about cancelling our trip to Santee was that I was able to phone Jeremy, the head pro at Farmstead about some lessons for Jennie. We met with him on the range at 11:00 Friday morning. I spent an hour hitting balls while Jeremy worked on improving Jennie’s technique. I could help her, but Jeremy had the technical knowledge that I lacked. He was also a 2-handicap while I was a 15. They worked together on putting for about fifteen minutes before we loaded our bags onto a cart and went out to play a round. Farmstead is, in my opinion, a fairly easy course with wide fairways on most holes. What makes it unique is the 18th—674 yards from the men’s tees and a par 6. It’s the only par 6 that I know of.

Jennie and I played slowly, but I thought she did well, scoring three pars while shooting a 112. In another month she’d be under a hundred, for sure.

We thanked Jeremy and I gave him $150, telling him we’d see him again on Monday. Jennie was positively glowing on the ride home. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I had such a wonderful time. I had no idea golf was such a scientific sport.”

“I suspect you could say that about all sports. As casual observers we’re just not aware of all the technicalities.” Jennie reached over and took my hand in hers. We were back in the driveway fifteen minutes later. We were just in time to meet with the new cleaning contractor. After checking the house he told me he would charge $75 a week. That was more than May had charged, but I doubted they would stick their noses into my business.

Jennie and I went in to shower before going out to dinner. Instead of a big meal I drove back almost all the way to Farmstead, stopping at Christopher’s for pizza and beer. I was from Long Island, New York originally and there were more than half a million Italian Americans there—and plenty of pizza joints. Most of the pizza I’d found here just sucked, but Christopher was originally from Brooklyn and his pizza showed it.

We sat in the simple restaurant and ordered two Yuengling’s and a large pie—extra cheese and sausage. We enjoyed our beer as we watched a golf tournament on one of the TV’s. I could see Jennie thinking about how the pro’s planned and executed their shots. Ten minutes later our pie arrived and we ate. Knowing Jennie I doubted that we’d have any leftovers. We didn’t. There wasn’t even a scrap left on Jennie’s plate. “I’m sure you realize that pizza isn’t really big in Iowa. Well, that’s not actually true. It is big if you like Pizza Hut. This was much better. I really liked it.”

I couldn’t suppress a chuckle as I replied, “I noticed.” Jennie turned the most delightful shade of red. I leaned across the table and gave her a quick kiss. “You’re also beautiful when you blush. Speaking about beauty, I just had an idea. We should get you an appointment to get your hair done and also your nails. I know of a good place for a manicure, but you should get a pedicure, too.”

I asked our waitress if she knew of a good beauty parlor in the area. She laughed. “Take a good look at my hair. It’s in a ponytail for a reason. I’ll ask some of the other women though if you want.” I did and she came back about ten minutes later, dropping the bill on the table. She also gave me a piece of paper with “Carla’s” and a phone number. “It’s not called Carla’s any more,” she said, “but nobody could recall the new one. They said the phone number is the same, though.” I knew where Carla’s was—right across the street from Holden Brothers’ huge farm store. I’d gone there several times in the fall to buy tomatoes, peppers, and even North Carolina apples. I never knew that apples could be grown in North Carolina, but I’d never be described as a farmer either.

The next month was really busy for the two of us. We were able to play golf twice a week even though the weather could best be described as “chilly.” I met with a locksmith and selected a high quality lockset and deadbolt for my front and garage doors. He also recommended a device that would secure my sliding glass door effectively. I had already changed the code for my house alarm. Next was a fence.

I met with two contractors who had experience with wrought iron estate fencing. Both had excellent references including three churches, a funeral parlor, and the county’s richest man. Their prices were close, but I chose the more expensive because he could start immediately. There were large stone pillars on either side of the driveway that had been installed by the previous owner. They were perfect for the remote controlled gate I wanted. A concrete footing every eight feet would serve as a strong base for the vertical posts with additional stone columns at every corner. The dock would have a gate with a numerical keypad on each side for better security, too.

Jennie had been studying the DMV manual online for two days when her new birth certificate arrived in the mail. I was pleased, but I could see that Jennie had her concerns. “Are you sure this is safe, Doug?”

“I think we would have had a visit from either the police or homeland security if it wasn’t. They sent the birth certificate instead. I’ll bet that even that small county gets dozens of requests every year. It’s just a routine deal. How many reasons for getting a new one can we think of? Fire? Flood?”

“Lost while moving?”

“Sure, probably more than all the others combined. How about eaten by a pet?”

“Okay…how about eaten by a kid?”

“Was that something from your sordid past?”

“No, but I would have done anything to escape from that loser and my non-mother.”

“I know, and you did it, didn’t you?”

“I would have done it sooner if I had known I’d be taken in by you.” That remark was accompanied by a sly smile that I returned as I sent her back to work. I connected to my wi-fi through a new laptop I’d bought. The stolen one was still in police hands as evidence from the theft. Using the laptop I was able to access my investment program where I learned I had earned more than $50,000 over the past weekend. I kept the program running even though my current investments earned me millions each and every week. I would donate virtually every dollar to selected charities before the end of the year.

Since the 9/11tragedy the state has required much more stringent identification so on Wednesday morning I drove Jennie to Conway, South Carolina so she could get a social security card. She used the same story she had told the clerk in Tennessee, except this time she told the clerk that she had no idea if her parents had requested a card for her as the entire contents of their house had been consumed in the fire. There was nothing on file for a Jennifer Marie Townsend, born in Tennessee on August 4, 1992 so she walked out with a new card. From there we went to my bank where I transferred $2,000,000 from one of my investments to a checking and savings account for Jennie.

Once she had received a statement she would need only two more things—a cell phone bill addressed to her at my, or our, address and proof that she had been added to my automobile insurance.

“I’ve thought about getting a lease agreement and charging you rent. That’s another form of identification the DMV accepts.”

“I’m paying you rent,” she asked in shock.

“No, of course not, but a rental lease is a lot easier for you to get than a utility or cable bill. Of course, I’d be open to bartering…services for rent or meals.” I couldn’t hide the grin.

“If that was true you’d wind up owing me money after the first day,” she replied with a grin of her own.

“Too true,” I said as I leaned over for a quick kiss before resuming our trip to Dr. Whitney’s office. We had a 4:30 appointment so I thought we’d be lucky to wait less than an hour. We waited for less than half that and went in together again.

“I’m not accustomed to seeing two patients at once,” Dr. Whitney announced when she walked through the door. “But if that’s what you want….”

She shuffled through some papers before sharing my test results. “Douglas, you’re fine—no sign of any STD’s.” She listened to my breathing and heartbeat before shooing me from the table and addressing Jennie. “Jennifer, most of your tests are perfectly normal—exactly what I would expect of someone your age. Unfortunately, you do have Chlamydia. There are two primary antibiotics—Doxycycline and Azithromycin. Of the two I much prefer the Azithromycin. If you take a seven day dose it will be in your system for fourteen. That should be more than enough to clear it up. I don’t know how long you’ve had it, but there is some reason to be concerned. Do you know who might have given it to you?”

I explained how Jennie and I had met and what her life had been during her five years on the road. “She’s lucky that’s all she has.” Dr. Whitney nodded and examined Jennie as she had me. She wrote two prescriptions—antibiotic and birth control. I paid the bills, and we were gone. I made a stop at the nearest CVS to fill the prescriptions and then I took Jennie out for dinner.

She looked at me sadly. “I’m so sorry, Doug.”

“Don’t be. We both knew this was a possibility. It changes nothing. We’ll continue using condoms until we go back in two weeks for your next test. You don’t even have to see Dr. Whitney. They’ll call by Friday and then we’ll go out and celebrate.” I leaned over to kiss her then continued down to Main Street in North Myrtle Beach where I turned left and drove about a half mile to Flynn’s Irish Tavern.
I ordered two Smithwick’s, being careful to pronounce it as they do in Ireland—Smittick’s—two onion soup’s, and two orders of corned beef and cabbage. The food was as delightful as always and the Smithwick’s, a wonderfully smooth Irish red ale, really hit the spot after a long and challenging day. We were stuffed by the time we left an hour later.

Jennie took her DMV written test four weeks later once her identification documents had been received in the mail. She needed a score of eighty percent and earned a ninety-six, getting twenty-four of twenty-five correct. I was happy for her—extremely happy. Now that she had her permit I’d be able to help her get a passport. Once she had that she’d be set for life with her new identity. Even better, she’d tested clean on her second STD test and was two weeks into taking birth control. In another two weeks I could push my bare cock into her. It was something we were looking forward to.

The day after our appointment with Dr. Whitney I drove us to Santee to meet with John, the dog trainer. We took our clubs, taking time that afternoon to hit a few buckets of balls at the Lake Marion Golf Course. We stayed nearby at the Best Western Santee Inn, dining the first night just down the road at Captain’s Quarters and the second at Clark’s, just off I-95. We made the most beautiful love both nights, our need for each other lasting well into the early morning hours. We were bleary eyed in the morning, but we did manage to get up early enough to shower together and eat a decent breakfast before driving to the kennel.

We met with the trainer, a good old boy with a deep southern accent I could barely follow. He introduced us to Lady, a spayed female German Shepherd about twenty months old. She bonded with Jennie almost immediately. Lady was a beautiful dog with light tan fur over most of her body barely concealing her powerful muscular body. We spent two days there working and training with Lady. She was normally a sweet gentle dog, but watch out when she was given the command to attack. I felt genuinely sorry for John’s assistant when Lady almost pulled his arm from his shoulder. But, showing how well she was trained, she released and returned to our sides as soon as commanded.

Lady climbed eagerly into the Honda’s rear seat, resting her head on the front seat right next to Jennie’s. I drove north on I-95 until we reached SC-378 eastbound, although northeast would be a better description. It went in the exact direction of our house--ending in Conway, only thirty minutes from home. The trip was only about two hours and forty minutes so we were home well before noon.

Jennie walked the property with Lady while I set up the water and food bowls we’d previously bought at Pet Smart. Lady’s bed, a four foot diameter corduroy cushion filled with cedar shavings, was at the foot of our bed. Our fence was due to be installed in another week. I felt that we were safe for the first time since moving here.

Jennie and I became closer and closer as the days passed. We played golf together as she began to improve, breaking 100 less than a month after her first game, exactly as I had predicted. We went to local theater productions and even to professional variety shows like the Carolina Opry, and productions at other theaters in the Myrtle Beach environs. We joined more than a hundred others at the House of Blues Murder Mystery Dinner Theater, winning a prize for picking the murderer successfully. That we were the only ones to do it made the evening even sweeter. I’ll always remember that night. It was the first that Jennie and I had unprotected sex although it was more making love than just sex.

As always we returned to the house, opening the gate with the remote and watching it close automatically once we had passed through. I put Lady out while Jennie made the bed ready. We showered together, extremely familiar now with each other’s bodies. We hugged and kissed as the steam built, surrounding us in a thin fog. It was more than ten minutes before we turned the water off and stepped out to dry each other. The kissing and touching continued all the way to the bed. Fact is we barely made it there before Jennie jumped my bones.

Jennie practically threw me onto the bed then slithered up my body until her lips and tongue found my cock. “Don’t get too excited, Doug. This is going into my pussy where it’s going to flood my womb with millions of tiny little swimmers. I’ve been looking forward to this for too long.”

“You’ve been looking forward to it? Take a guess how I feel!” I thought at the time that my heart must have been beating two hundred times a minute. The sensations of feeling my bare flesh against hers drove me wild with lust. I pounded up into her as she clutched me tightly with her vaginal muscles. There was no way I could resist this for very long and I didn’t. Jennie didn’t care. She begged for my cum and when I exploded into her she was ecstatic.

“Thank you, Doug. You have no idea how much I wanted that.”

“But…I didn’t take care of you.”

“Don’t worry. I know you will, either later or tomorrow morning. I’m not at all disappointed.” I guess not; she had a huge shit-eating grin on her face. She moved me under the blankets, pulled them up to my chin and joined me, her naked body leaking onto my thigh. I lay there for several minutes asking myself if it could possibly get any better than this.

It did the following morning when Jennie once again made love with me. It was missionary this time, except that her legs were over my shoulders and she was bent in two. I couldn’t believe that she could even move, but she could and did, creating a rocking motion that rubbed my cock into the anterior wall of her vaginal canal. That’s nerd-speak for rubbing her G-spot. Jennie came twice, shaking wildly and screaming in her ecstasy, before I deposited another big load deep within her. I pulled my body from hers, not wanting to hurt her, but she stayed in that position for a good fifteen minutes, at least, while we came down from our high. We kissed and touched each other non-stop as I savored the smoothness of her skin and the lushness of her body.

Eating three meals a day had a fantastic effect on Jennie. She had added twenty pounds over the past three months and all of it went into the right places. She retained her flat abdomen, but her breasts had grown into a solid C-cup and her hips and ass had become rounder and curvier—and a whole lot sexier although I found her sexy when she was as thin as a rail. When she came out of the beauty parlor that first time she had been completely transformed from a skinny vagrant and beggar to an incredibly hot and beautiful young woman. Heads turned when we walked into the restaurant that evening and every evening after.

NEXT: My life changes dramatically. Wow, does it ever!

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