Playtime Stories 22 ndash Rest Stop Action
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Play It Again, SamChapter 9: Action. free porn video
Two days later, just before civil dusk with the sun about 3 or 4 degrees below the horizon when objects are still distinguishable and a spattering of stars and planets are just becoming visible to the naked eye we put our plan into action.
Everything was going just as planned without a snag. Jen and Pat having satisfied themselves that the house was unoccupied gave Kim and I the signal and then they quickly headed east on foot toward the Caddy which was parked at the corner of the cross street where they would wait and watch.
Kim and I quickly made our way to the back of the garage where we were soon joined by Vicky and Maria. Opening the garage door turned out to be easier than I had anticipated because the third master key I tried unlocked the door.
Once inside we discovered that the tan Ford sedan was still parked inside the garage. Vicky and Maria set up their fire starting supplies in the front corner of the garage farthest away from the gas water heater while I worked on the lock that would gain us entry into the house. The second master key I tried worked on that entry lock. Signaling to Vicky and Maria that we were ready, Kim and I entered the house.
Still able to see fairly well by the dim light filtering in from outside we found ourselves standing in the kitchen. The kitchen itself was spotless. Everything was perfect. No dirty dishes in the sink, no spills on the counter top, and strangely enough no sign of an electric can opener, toaster, or even a coffee pot anywhere.
"This is a little weird," Kim whispered to me.
"Yeah," I agreed in a low tone. "Certainly not what I expected to find."
I opened the refrigerator and looked inside. I saw a half empty carton of milk, a jar of strawberry jelly, three bottles of Budweiser behind some bread-and-butter pickle chips, half a loaf of white bread, one English muffin, a quarter of a yellow onion in a plastic bag, a nearly empty jar of olives and, in the vegetable bin, some wilted cilantro and ginger, vestiges of a happier time, and curiously enough, six pre-cooked pot-pies still nestled inside their aluminum cooking trays.
"It looks like he cooks a bunch of pot-pies all at once. I guess that way all he has to do is heat one up when he wants it. Do you think it saves on the gas bill by cooking them all at one time like that?" Kim asked.
"Got me," I answered shaking my head and discovering about twenty additional frozen beef pot-pies, still packaged inside their cartons in the freezer. "This guy sure seems to be on a pot-pie diet though."
After searching through all the kitchen drawers and cabinets and discovering nothing significant we moved quietly into the dining room. No table, no chairs, no china cabinet, no nothing. I looked through the arched opening into the living room and gazed intently at a single recliner located in the center of the large room.
"Man, this gets weirder by the moment," I commented as Kim and I made our way into the living room.
In the living room sat the single recliner chair that I had spotted from the dining room which was positioned directly in the center of the room facing an old black and white twenty-one inch console television set. The only other piece of furniture in the room was a floral patterned metal TV tray stand located directly next to the recliner.
Through the slightly parted drapes covering a pair of eight foot wide sliding glass doors I could see a small covered concrete patio slab located at the side of the house with a single patio chair seated on it.
"This guy sure isn't much for entertaining is he?" Kim commented looking around. "No dining table, a single chair in the living room, and only that one lonely patio chair out on the patio."
"No kidding. Weirder by the moment," I responded making my way over too, and then opening the single closet door located just off the front entry. Inside I found a dark brown wool coat, a yellow raincoat, a black umbrella, and a pair of yellow rain slickers. The shelf located above the clothes rod was vacant. I searched through the pockets of the raincoat and found nothing, but in one pocket of the wool coat I found a small key. The key had the number 3201 stamped on it and seemed to be one of those keys you get from a coin operated public storage locker located inside most airports and bus stations. I absentmindedly dropped the key into my right front pocket.
We made our way to the far side of the room and then up the stairway to the second floor. It was too dark to see clearly on the upper level so I switched on my flashlight. The staircase ended at one end of a short hallway with three closed doors located on our left and a single door to the right.
"That's probably two smaller bedrooms separated by a bath on our left, and that door on the right is undoubtedly the master bedroom." I pointed out.
"Uh huh," Kim responded and then she added, "Notice anything unusual?"
"You mean other than every door up here has a dead bolt installed on it?" I asked.
"No nothing else. That's the unusual I was talking about. Get to work big guy."
"Okay. Here, hold the flashlight while I do my cat-burglar routine." I said passing the flashlight over to Kim.
Well these locks were not as easy to open as the previous two had been. After trying all eight of the master keys Bob had given me into each of the locks without success I resorted to using the lock picks and wrench.
Ten minutes later we were inside the first small bedroom. It was devoid of any furnishings what so ever, and its closet was empty. The second smaller bedroom and the connecting bath were just as empty. In fact both the bedrooms and the bathroom looked as if they had never been occupied.
The master bedroom however was being used. I flipped on the overhead light and saw that all four walls were covered in pale wood paneling but devoid of any pictures or artwork of any kind. The room itself was furnished with a pine-wood framed queen sized bed with matching pine night stands located on either side of it. One nightstand supported a knock off Tiffany style table lamp, and the other a telephone and wind-up alarm clock. Located against one wall was a full length pine dresser with attached mirror, and against another wall stood a Queen Anne style side chair draped with soiled linen which rounded out the rooms furnishings.
The adjoining master bath was completely un-spectacular containing only the usual bathroom crap; soap, shampoo, hairbrush, toothpaste and toothbrush, shaving supplies, towels, etc.
Kim and I carefully went through everything in both rooms, looking, touching, searching and we came up empty.
"Shit!" I said out of frustration as I clawed once again among the linen in an aimless fashion, grasping pieces at random and elevating them to my eye level. Enraged, I ripped at a sock, turning it inside out, and flung it onto the dresser. In futile irritation, I moved jerkily about the room, eyes flickering over the furniture and then passing on. All these things in this room were the possessions of Creepy. He had sat in that chair; he had slept in that bed ... his presence impinged on my consciousness. I hated him! I wanted him so badly ... I hated him!
As if to torture myself, I swayed into the bathroom and began examining Creepy's personal toilet articles once again. I held up a razor and tossed it idly aside. I opened the shaving lotion and sniffed. I swirled the badger brush around in the wooden shaving bowl and watched the lather rise. "Shit!" I said once again in anguish.
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