The story about Jane
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KristinChapter 13 free porn video
The 4th of July holiday was coming up and I decided to try to enlist my parents in helping me convince Kris to marry me. The fact was that she continued to consider the whole thing to be a big joke. She just dismissed out of hand any idea that I might seriously want to marry her. It was odd, really. She was objective and clear-thinking about absolutely everything ... except about herself. To her, she was an unreconstructed whore and that was all she would ever be. Therefore, the thought of marriage to anyone — least of all, to me — was utterly out of the question.
Since the 4th was on a Thursday that year, particularly in New York, we were looking at a 4-day weekend. And, because I wasn’t desperately needed at the office (?) I decided to take a break and head up to my parents’ place at noon on Wednesday. The girls — Terry, Liz and Tina — had lined up a number of activities in the city including a couple of rock concerts.
Speaking for all of them, Liz announced with a big grin that it was their first opportunity in New York for them to act natural, i.e., trashy. “You won’t mind if you find we’ve been pierced and ringed, and maybe picked up a few tats, would you Cam?” she asked with her eyes dancing.
The fact was that all three of them were outrageous beauties. Terry, who had started the whole thing, had lost weight and inches at her bust and hip lines. She was now as streamlined as the others, albeit built on a smaller scale. Moreover, she had become as athletic as the others, too, to her great surprise and professed dismay.
Again we headed north in my M-5. What a blunder that was! The BMW M-5 comes with only one transmission: a 6-speed manual. We headed east to the FDR Drive, and as we got close to the first northbound access ramp, the fun began. For those of you not familiar with New York, the FDR is the only road in the world to my knowledge where one can routinely encounter bumper-to-bumper traffic at 3:00 AM. Thank heavens, the BMW’s cooling system is very good because we were in stall-and-crawl traffic even before we reached the FDR itself. Six-speed transmission? Hah! I alternated between first and second for miles. It wasn’t until we had crossed the Westchester County line that I was able to reach 5th. Oh, well...
My parents live in northern Westchester. I was going to say they have a nice house, but that’s really not true. It’s an estate with the house sitting on 100 acres or so. Anyway, I released the electric gate — its code was identical to the one that activates the apartment’s garage doors — and drove up the winding drive to the front of the house.
When she first saw it, Kris gasped, “It’s utterly magnificent!” Then she grinned at me and added, “I guess you and your family really do have a few bucks, don’t you?”
That comment wasn’t worth a response.
As the car came to a stop, the front doors of the house popped open and my parents came running out to greet us. My dad, Bill, is six feet two and my mother, Martha, is about five feet eight. I guess I come by my size naturally.
At any rate, I ran around the car to open the door for Kris. Controlling her impatience, she actually waited for me to do it, too. I opened the door and handed her out of the car. Because of the nature of the holiday, she was wearing a white dress trimmed with red and blue. Along with her golden hair, incredible blue eyes and her all-over tan, she looked utterly spectacular.
“Mother and Dad,” I proudly announced, “I would like you to meet my fiancée, Kristin Collins. Kris, these are my parents, Bill and Marty Harris.”
Although Kris had her right hand outstretched, Mom just ignored it. Instead, she took Kris into her arms and kissed her. Dad and I just watched in utter amazement. The kiss was not a peck on the cheek! I could see the two pairs of lips melt together while Kris used some of her strength to hold Mom tight while their lips moved on each other.
When they finally eased apart, I could see Mother’s eyes were glassy. She moved back and took Kris’s hands in both of her own and just looked at her. Finally, in the softest, most loving voice I could ever remember hearing from her, she murmured, “Hello, daughter! Where have you been hiding all these years?” Then she looked down at Kris’s left hand and saw the magnificent diamond on her third finger. “Well, what do you know?” she added. “It appears that Cam’s taste in diamonds is as good as his taste in young women.” Then looking deep into Kris’s eyes she murmured, “Welcome, dear Kris, to the Harris family!”
“Mrs. Harris...” Kris began, finally being able to speak for the first time.
Mother just raised an eyebrow and began to impatiently tap her foot on the paving.
“But...” Kris tried again.
“My name is Martha, young woman!” Mom said with a glare. “But to you I’m Marty, or ‘you fat pig” or...” Slowly she shook her head and then continued, “But what I would really love to hear would be for you to call me Mother or Mom!”
Before Kris could even squeeze in a word, Mother looked down at herself. “Frankly, dear, I’m an overweight slob, but that’s going to change beginning right now. I look at your body, Kris, and it’s my inspiration. Woman, you are just utterly perfect! And your muscles! You work out every day, don’t you?”
“Yes, but—”
“Come on, girl! You and I are going to get acquainted.”
“Could I say hello to Mr. Harris first?” Kris managed to squeak.
This time it was Dad’s turn to raise an eyebrow and tap his foot. He held out his arms and Kris moved into them. Tipping her head, she kissed him. Since she was wearing her two-inch heels, she was just about six feet tall so she and Dad fit together perfectly. Mom and I could see the love flowing between the two.
“She’s so utterly perfect, Cam!” Mom breathed. “And so loaded with love it just spills all over every body and every thing. She’s perfect!”
Dad eased away finally and I noted that his eyes were glassy, too. When he finally brought them into focus he said, “Kris, I’m going to keep it very simple: To you, I respond to a single name: Dad. Understood?”
“But...” she began to protest.
“Understood!” he thundered.
“Yes, sir,” she squeaked, shaking her head in frustration.
Before she could say or do anything else, Mom took her by the hand and marched her into the house. Dad and I just watched as she dragged Kris up the stairs in the direction of the master suite’s sitting room.
“Well, son,” Dad commented, “it looks like they’re gone for the rest of the afternoon.” With a grin he added, “Feel like nine holes of golf? It’s not too late.”
So that’s what we did. I brought our luggage in, leaving my golf clubs in the car.
We had a good time that afternoon. Since he neglected to ask for strokes, I took him for ten bucks. His only comment was that my game had certainly improved since the last time we had played together.
Back at the house, we found the women in the kitchen. Mom was sitting on a stool at the kitchen counter watching Kris cook. At a glance I could tell that she was preparing a haute cuisine French dinner and indeed that’s what it was.
Dad made drinks for all of us and we sat around the kitchen table nibbling on canapés that Kris had also prepared. For some reason, I felt better than I could ever remember feeling. For possibly the very first time in my life I felt I was really home. Kris’s presence, somehow, just seemed to bring the whole family closer together. Furthermore, looking at my parents, I was pretty sure they felt exactly the same way.
“Bill,” Mom began, “as you probably guessed, our daughter and I spent the whole afternoon getting acquainted. She insists, by the way, that she’s Cam’s mistress, not his fiancée. As far as she’s concerned, the whole engagement thing is just a sick joke.
“It seems that she’s spent the last eight years in a sex school. Before that, she was a prostitute, working the streets, although she’s forgotten where those streets were, but she’s pretty sure they weren’t anywhere in the Northeast.
“Oh, yes ... She seems to be a bit smarter than the average bear, too. While learning how to fuck in more ways than I can count, she seems to have picked up some education. Not much, you understand. From a standing start at age fifteen, she got her GED, but kept on going. Now she has her MBA and in June was awarded her Ph.D. in American History.” She grinned, winked at me and continued, “Of course, she didn’t bother to tell Cam about her doctorate, nor did she spring for the hundred bucks or so for the cap and gown to receive it at her commencement.
“And oh, yes ... One more thing. She also has her JD and is a member of the Federal bar...”
At that comment, Dad jumped up from the table and disappeared in the direction of his study. Kris and Mom took the interruption to begin bringing dishes out to the dining table. The three of us were standing at the table when he returned with papers in his hand. He and I seated the women and then seated ourselves.
When Mom took the first bite of the appetizer, she closed her eyes and moaned. “Utterly exquisite!” Looking down the table at Dad she added, “Can you believe it, Bill? A brilliant beauty who can cook? Masterfully, too.”
I have to admit, Kris really did outdo herself that evening. The dinner was truly magnificent, and Dad had wines that accompanied it perfectly.
We finished dessert and then adjourned to the library for coffee and cognac. Dad and I had Cuban cigars he had brought back from Europe, while Kris took a very light panatela. Mom watched her light it and then lit one, too. When Dad and I both raised eyebrows, all she did was very cutely stick out the tip of her tongue. That was something truly new and different for my mother.
All this time Dad had had a small sheaf of papers in his hand. Finally, he said, “Kris, can I assume that you’re the K. Collins who recently took the New York State Bar Exam?”
She was visibly chagrined, but temporized, “How did you know that?”
“Because these are the results,” he said. “Hmm ... Not too shabby, either ... It seems that K. Collins tied for the top score statewide. But since you’re tied with someone named Bernstein, and the results are listed alphabetically in cases of ties, you’re listed second.” Then he looked at her with his eyes piercing and asked, “When do you expect to be admitted to practice?”
“I don’t because I can’t be,” she replied. Then she added, “I should apologize for wasting people’s time even taking the test. I was really doing it to test my knowledge of New York law. But I can’t be admitted to practice.”
“And why not?” Dad asked. “On the basis of your score on the bar exam, I would have to rate your knowledge of our laws as ... adequate.” The last was said with a broad grin.
“It’s out of the question, sir,” she replied.
“Why is it out of the question?”
“Because, among other things, to be admitted to practice in the Southern District of New York, I need letters from two people who have known me at every address at which I’ve ever lived.”
“And... ?” he persisted.
“Mr. Harris—”
“What?” Dad thundered.
Tears started to flow from Kris’s eyes as she said, “I can’t call you Dad! I’m just a whore and a slut. There’s no way I could ever have the slightest relationship to you and your family, sir.”
“No, my darling,” Dad replied softly, “you are the most beautiful, most loving, most lovable creature God has ever placed on this planet. I can see why you might not care to associate with us, but for our part it’s no contest at all. Kristin Collins, you’re just perfect!
“Now how do you address me?”
“Dad—”
“Much better!” Dad grinned. “Now come here, daughter.”
Her eyes widened but she rose from the sofa and went to the lounge chair on which he was sitting. Dad lifted her up and set her across his lap, then hugged her tightly. Turning her head toward him, he tipped it and then kissed her.
I glanced at Mom as he did, and she was positively glowing. Jealous? No way! Mom was ecstatic with happiness as he saw the love flow between the two.
When they finally eased apart, he prompted, “Letters?”
“Dad, I don’t even know what city or cities I’ve lived in. I do know that for years I just lived on the streets. Neighbors who knew me? That’s just a sick joke.”
They talked about it some more with Kris recounting some of the things she did while on the streets. As usual, she painted as dark a picture as she possibly could. And in fairness to her, the reality was pretty bleak. Finally, Dad effortlessly lifted her up in his arms and deposited her beside me on the leather sofa. Going to his desk, he retrieved an address book, then excused himself.
The three of us chatted with Mom saying how much she was enjoying the very first cigar of her life. When Dad finally returned, the four of us played Bridge and had a fine time.
When we retired for the evening, I found that the upstairs rooms had been completely redone in my absence. Instead of having a room, I had a suite to myself complete with sitting room and private bath nearly as elaborate as the one in the penthouse.
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